


A New Beginning

by nomoretears24



Series: Exploring [6]
Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Secret Relationship, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 39,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29266587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomoretears24/pseuds/nomoretears24
Summary: They're finally going public...
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Series: Exploring [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991920
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	1. Moving In

It felt weird to be back in his apartment.

The relief was finally setting in as he realises his father is locked away and he is no longer in danger. He can’t help the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach though when he thinks about his dad being in prison now.

There’s a sadness there for everything that had happened; a childish melancholy for the loss of what could have been if his dad had just been a loving and caring human being with a semblance of emotion other than rage. He didn’t know if he ever believed that would ever have come to fruition, every time his dad had been even remotely not unkind, he had been suspicious of the angle, of what possible play he was trying to make, of the intentions behind his behaviour. He knows deep down his dad would never have changed but it doesn’t stop him from feeling the anxiety around it.

He enters to a team of cleaners, aggressively pulling everything out of his kitchen cupboards to scrub them, big humming machines to buff the tiles in the hallway, two women putting on the new bed sheets he had arranged for; knowing they were Gerri’s favourite.

He has a lot to do today.

He had decided after speaking to Gerri this morning that he was going to make this day special; an attempt to drive away all of the negative emotions that were currently bubbling within him.

He grabs one of the women after they make up the bed, sets about getting her to help him move the shit he didn’t need in his wardrobe into one of the closets in one of the spare rooms upstairs.

Of course, when he says help, he means he threw the shit on the bed and it was the responsibility of the maid to find a place for it upstairs. It’s the most concentrated he’s ever been, successfully clearing out a few drawers and half of his walk-in wardrobe for her. He determines that if this, no, he had to think positively, when this became a permanent thing then they would need to consider either rearranging shit so they had more space for everything or they were going to have to find a bigger place with a different layout.

He lies on the bed spent after it, panting like it was a fucking work out.

He never would have imagined himself doing something as fucking monotonous as clearing out half his wardrobe for a girlfriend. The last ones ended up just throwing their shit somewhere, finding a hanger in the closet to put things on, or slyly putting their shit in the spare closet’s upstairs. He never considered clearing fuck all out for any of them before. But he knows that he didn’t really want any of them here; he knows he always felt stifled when they tried to work their way into his apartment. He had felt crowded, suffocated when they constantly surrounded them; too much fucking intimacy for his liking, Tabitha really the only one who understood what personal fucking space was.

He knows though that he doesn’t feel that way about Gerri. He knows the roles are reversed this time. If one of them was going to feel smothered it was her, and he wants to do anything he can to make sure she doesn’t, he wants to pass this trial, wants to impress her with his maturity so that she stays.

For once, he feels a little guilty about his past girlfriends, realises what it might have been like to be them. He pushes it to the back of his mind, decides instead to go through with his plan to set up a rosy night for her like she had suggested; grabs his shit, calls his car, and goes out into the city to pick up the shit he needs to make that happen.

****

She’s in the car on the way to his apartment, smiling as she looks out to city as it passes her. She felt a little odd leaving her apartment, knowing she may not be back for a while, or ever for that matter.

It hadn’t been home per se, but it had been hers and hers alone. It had been the first thing that was only hers in such a long time; the first indication of her independence after Baird had died.

It had been set up the way she had wanted it, everything she needed exactly where she wanted it, and everything clinically perfect and uncluttered.

Roman’s apartment was tastefully done, relatively orderly, but it wasn’t her style; far too contemporary for her liking.

However, an apartment was something that could be changed, that she was not so worried about.

Whilst she has a little anxiety about the idea of losing her independence, she can feel her excitement growing too. The fact that they were finally going public, that after months of sneaking around and not being able to see each other when they wanted would finally be over.

They would be able to hold hands in public, that they would be able to seek that fun and comfort at the end of a shitty day when they most needed it. The fact that they could finally start going out into the city and enjoying things as soon as the media died down, it was exhilarating. It felt like the introduction of a new chapter; a hopefully less stressful and peaceful chapter.

She can’t wait to get started.

****

She lets herself in with her key, balancing three garment bags over her shoulder, dragging her suitcase on wheels behind her as a mix of grapefruit and Clorox hits her. She smiles at the familiar smell, at how it smells so similar to her apartment, and how it instantly feels like home.

“Rome?” She shouts out, tucking the suitcase next to the couch by the door, walking through the hallway with the garment bags still over her shoulder as she seeks him out, finally hearing a thumping and mumbling coming from the bedroom.

“Fuck… shit… hey!” He shouts. “You’re early!” He shouts again as he scurries out of the bedroom into the hallway, closing the door firmly behind him, looking back over his shoulder to it nervously.

“Yeah,” she smiles. “There’s apparently a bit of traffic so Charlotte decided to head over at seven,” she tells him gently as he leans in to give her a peck. “That okay?

“Yeah, sure. Cool,” he sighs.

“Your face looks better today,” she observes, her free hand moving up to stroke his black eye.

“It’s not as sore,” he shrugs. “Uhm…,” he hums before noting the bags she’s lugging over her shoulder. “Fuck, sorry,” he scoffs. “Let me take those,” he shakes his head, taking them off her shoulder. “Go and relax, and I’ll hang these up. I… uhm… I put on the fire in the main room tonight. Thought it would be a bit different. Unless you’d rather go to the living room to watch the news or whatever.”

“Main rooms fine,” she says softly with a smile.

“Ehm… I didn’t have the time to take your wine out. But it’s in the fridge if you want to grab it. Or there’s red in the wine rack if you’d rather have that,” he says walking backwards, still rabbling. “Or you can tell me whichever you want, and I can get it once I’ve done this.”

“I can get it,” she smiles through a frown, noting is unusual behaviour, as she watches him nervously shuffling back to the bedroom. “You have a preference?”

“Whatever you want!” He shouts as he goes into the bedroom.

“Okay,” she shakes her head, moving to the kitchen to get the wine from the fridge, pouring them a large glass each as he re-enters.

“Uhm…,” he ventures, leaning against the frame of the kitchen door. “You’ve packed light,” he observes through an awkward laugh, pointing to the suitcase with his head over his shoulder.

“Oh,” she laughs. “The rest of it is coming tomorrow. Maria is having it brought over, so I didn’t have to bring it all up.”

“Ah, okay,” he sighs in relief, as she walks towards him with a glass of wine. “I was going to say because you basically change your coats, like, every day and there’s no way that little suitcase could hold all that.”

“Absolutely not,” she laughs, passing him his glass as he moves out of her way. “I just brought what I needed for tonight and tomorrow. It’s all coming tomorrow,” she smiles as she walks towards the main room.

They never usually came in here; he always had said that Tabitha spent all her time in here, whereas he much preferred the living room. The couches were comfier there, he had a television, his PS5 set up. He never really did see much need for the main room unless he was entertaining.

It’s a perfectly nice room. Very muted with a cream corner couch with two armchairs next to them, making it into a horseshoe all facing a large pale marble fireplace that reached the ceiling, topped off with a large ugly sculpture by the window that she didn’t really want to spend her nights staring at. However, it always looked a little uncomfortable to her, a bit bare, not a lot of reason to sit in here when she visited considering she was often working and liked to spend her nights when she got home watching ATN and PGM to assess what news was circulating so she could keep on top of things. The living room was cosier, a place to relax in her opinion; a feeling apparently mirrored by Roman.

“That’s unusual that you chose to sit in here tonight,” she notes with a smirk. “I’ve never even seen the fire on.”

“We can go into the living room if you want,” he says quickly with his eyes wide, pointing over his shoulder.

“No, no,” she protests lightly, sitting down on the corner of the large couch, kicking off her shoes and moving her legs up onto it outstretched to face the fireplace. “It’s nice in here.”

“Well,” he says walking over to the couch, sitting a few feet away from her, taking a gulp of his wine. “I thought you might like to sit in here when you wanted some peace and quiet. Maybe when you wanted to read or something. Tabitha liked to chill out in here with the fire; scrolled on her iPad most of the time. She liked it more than the living room, but I always found it kind of, ya know, cold.”

“It’s a nice room. I’m sure I would like to read in here,” she narrows her eyes at him, taking in his twitchy behaviour, the scratching off the back of his head, his fiddling with the glass, his eyes darting everywhere in the room apart from towards her. “What’s up, Rome?”

He finally looks around to her, noting her expectant eyes, her small smirk.

“Nothing,” he chokes. “Nothing at all,” he says taking another gulp of his wine.

“Come on, honey. Tell me,” she smiles, though he still doesn’t look up.

“Nothing to tell,” he mumbles as her lips purse.

“Is this because of last night? With Shiv?” She asks curiously.

“Nah, nah,” he mumbles. “We sorted it all out.”

“Did something else happen?”

“I don’t want to talk about it just now but it’s nothing bad. It’s not that.”

“Okay,” she twists her lips in consideration. “Then are you having regrets about me moving in?” She ventures softly.

“What?” He asks confused, looking around to her finally. “No. Are you?”

His eyes are wide, his chest holding in a large inhalation, and she realises he’s afraid.

“No,” she tells him seriously. “But you seem worried. If this is going to work, our communication has to be open even more than it was before.”

He sighs, looks down to his wine, hunching over to lean on his knees.

“I just want you to be comfortable,” he divulges quietly.

“I am comfortable. Has something suggested I’m not?”

“No,” he whinges. “But I just, ya know, don’t want to fuck it up.”

“Honey, I’ve not even been here five minutes. That would be a record if you were able to do that in this time,” she scoffs, trying to lighten the situation.

“You know what I mean,” he groans draining his wine and sitting it on the coffee table in front of him, running his idle hands through his hair.

“I feel like I would feel a lot more comfortable…,” she begins as he looks around to her expectantly, waiting for her need so he can fulfil it, “… if you weren’t sitting several feet away from me and had your head settled right here,” she smiles softly, tapping her thighs, looking into his eyes with mirth.

He sighs, releasing a breath, giving a small relieved smile, crawling across the couch towards her, placing his head on her lap, lying on his back perpendicular to her across the other end of the couch, as she instantly runs her hand through his hair, her wine glass perched on the back of the couch.

“I tried to make an effort,” he reveals with his eyes closed, humming at the feeling of her touch.

“I can tell,” she reveals. “I can smell it.”

“You noticed?” He opens his eyes to look at her.

“Jo Malone Grapefruit candles. Didn’t realise you picked up on that.”

“Well they’re all over your apartment,” he divulges. “I went to the store today and bought like twenty of them. Lit them up all over the apartment. Well I got the cleaners to. I got you some of the bath oil shit as well. Thought you might want to take one later.”

“That’s very sweet, honey. Very thoughtful.”

“I just want you to be comfortable.”

“I realise that, and it was very kind, but this is your apartment too. You also need to be comfortable.”

“I like the smell. Reminds me of you, so that’s fine with me.”

“I don’t just mean that, honey. I saw the fridge is also filled with my favourite wine,” she chuckles with quirk of her eyebrows.

“Yeah, so? I got like three crates of white and three crates of the red you like. Is that wrong?” He asks, genuinely wanting to know the answer.

“No, but you didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to,” he retorts as though it were obvious.

She realises that with everything that’s been going on with Logan, with work, and all the bullshit stress, she’s neglected to even consider that Roman may never have moved in with a girlfriend before. She had thought they had, but until this point, she had neglected to ask.

“Rome, have you ever had a girlfriend move in before?”

“Uhm… kind of. Never like officially in terms of a decision. Like they ended up moving more and more of their shit in and would stay over more often. But not like them giving up their apartments and staying over every night.”

“Did they ever pay some of the bills at least?” She asks curiously.

“Fuck no,” he scoffs.

So, he hadn’t moved in with a girlfriend before, she realises.

“Okay,” she sighs, taking a sip of her wine. “We’re going to have to talk about this then and set some ground rules.”

“Wait, what?” He asks confused, looking up to her until she moves her hand to his chest, undoing one of the buttons, to run her hand soothingly across his chest, his lips caressing the soft skin of her forearm. “Rules for what?”

“It’s not a bad thing. We just need to figure some things out. Like paying bills. I _will_ be paying bills here,” she tells him resolutely.

“Fuck that! I don’t want you to pay bills. Why the fuck would you pay bills here when you don’t need to?” He protests, looking up to her with a frown.

“Because that’s what couples do when they move in with one another,” she reveals.

“But you still need to pay for your apartment,” he reminds her.

“I own my apartment. I won’t be living there so the bills will be drastically less.”

“I own this apartment, too. It’s not like a pay a mortgage,” he laughs as she rolls her eyes.

“I want to pay my way, Roman. I’m not a kept woman. I pay my way with everything and this is no different. I want everything to be equal,” she tries to explain.

“But why when I can afford it,” he shakes his head.

“Because I’m not a little girl who can’t afford it,” she argues.

“Okay, fine whatever,” he huffs, his hands falling to his sides as his body stiffens.

“It’s not like I’m going to be paying more than you. Just show me your bills and we can figure out how much everything is and then take food into account with that and we can decide who pays what while I live here,” she explains diligently.

“While you live here?” He frowns, sitting up as her hand releases from his shirt. “You’re already talking like you’re planning on leaving.”

“Roman,” she warns. “Don’t put words in my mouth. I said what I said. While we both are living collectively under one roof, everything will be equal. That’s how I want it and I’ve already explained why.”

“I don’t handle the bills. My accountants do,” he mumbles as she brings her legs up to her chest, shifting over to face him on the couch.

“Then give me their contact details and I will talk to them. It doesn’t have to be completely split to the cent. It might just be that I pay the food and the electricity, and you pay the rest. Do you see what I mean?”

“Yeah, I get it,” he mumbles again as she narrows her eyes, flexing her legs out towards him to kick his thigh until he looks up to her, splaying her legs across his thighs as he smiles, moving his hands to knead them.

“Trust me, it’s better this way,” she smiles, as Roman nods silently. “That’s another thing. Your cleaning services. Are they efficient?”

“I mean, they clean shit?” He shrugs, looking around to her.

“Wow. A rave review,” she deadpans.

“I mean, I hired extra ones and paid extra for a deep fucking clean for you coming today because I know you like things fucking sparkling, but I can’t say I’ve noticed before now,” he offers with another shrug.

“Okay, I’ll keep an eye on it,” she bites the inside of her mouth. “I assume you don’t have a housekeeper or anything like that?”

“Nah, I didn’t see the need when I’m barely here and only get takeout. The cleaners have a key to let themselves in and out and drop of laundry and shit.”

“Would you mind if I brought Maria over here with me then since she has nothing to do at mine for now. It took me years to find someone I trust and who knows exactly how I like everything.”

“Yeah, whatever you want,” he offers with a shrug, her smile widening in relief. “As long as I get to pay half her wages,” he gives a shit eating grin, his eyes fluttering.

“Using my own logic against me,” she smiles, running her hand over the back of his neck. “She will be a part of the split expenses then, yes.”

“I like Maria.”

“She’s great. She can get all our shopping for us so your fridge might have something other than wine in it,” she smirks. “And she can keep an eye on the cleaning service you have too. If they’re substandard, we can just use mine.”

“What’s with you and cleaning?” He laughs, running his hand down her shin.

“I like everything clean and tidy. That simple.”

“Nah, but it’s like an OCD.”

“I don’t like mess. Something you should note if you don’t want to get on my bad side,” she quirks an eyebrow with a smirk.

“Who? Moi? I am spotless,” he jokes.

“Uhu,” she rolls her eyes. “You forget I’ve stayed here before Roman Roy. I’ve noticed that you seem to feel the need to stare at your teeth as you brush them, getting toothpaste all over the mirror so I can barely see my reflection. That you throw your clothing around a room for other people to pick up instead of into a hamper. And that you can’t seem to turn off a damn light,” she mocks, her caresses softening the blow of the reality.

“Hey! Turning off a light isn’t cleaning or mess,” he notes.

“But it’s wasteful,” she smiles, leaning over to peck his lips.

“Fuck, it’s like being back in military school,” he jokes. “Except I’m fucking my drill sergeant.”

“Is this a new fantasy?” She flirts. “Am I going to have to get you to make a bed and bounce a quarter off it to get you hard,” she laughs, her fingers tickling the back of his neck now.

He finds his lip curling at the thought, as the idea of Gerri in a military uniform, barking orders at him, forcing him to give her head when his chores aren’t completed to her satisfaction, as he feels his pants becoming suddenly tight.

She laughs, watching him shift to make himself more comfortable as he remains silent.

“Earth to Roman,” she whispers in his ear, placing a kiss under his ear as he turns around to her grinning.

“I could get behind that role play,” he smiles, kissing her hard as she laughs into it, pulling back quickly.

“Tell me this first, what are you most afraid of with us moving in together? There’s obviously an issue.”

“I’m not afraid,” he whispers, tightening his grasp on her thigh through the linen pants, brushing his nose against hers.

“You seemed pretty jumpy when I got here,” she whispers back, pecking his lips before pulling back and taking a sip of her wine, whilst he looks down to his hand kneading above her knee.

“I just don’t want to fuck it up. I don’t want to make it so shitty that you don’t want to stay here,” he reveals quietly.

“Is that what you think? That this is like a test? That it’s a pass/fail, and if you fail, I’m going to walk?” She asks gently, brushing her hand through his hair above his ear, as he shrugs in answer.

“Oh, honey,” she soothes. “It’s not like that. If you don’t pick up a towel, I’m not just going to call the whole thing off.”

“But it’s a trial. A trial by definition is a test,” he says, looking up to her again.

“But it’s not like that,” she reassures. “It’s not a case of you having to impress me and do everything I want, or I pack it in. It’s making sure we are far enough along in this relationship to live together. That we know each other and are comfortable enough with each other to live together. I was going to be living here for a few weeks regardless of whether or not it was a trial for making it permanent. I shouldn’t have said anything,” she sighs sadly. “I should have just suggested it at the end of staying here a while if it was going well.”

“No,” he protests loudly. “I’m glad you suggested it. It gives me some fucking hope that this is actually moving forward. It means I can actually try to make an effort, so we do shit together to make it a real thing. I just… I’m not making any sense.”

“I get it, Rome. But this isn’t a test for _you_. It’s to make sure that there isn’t something substantially different when we’re always together that makes the relationship not work. A lot of people have a little trial living together before moving in now from what I hear. It’s also to see how suitable our surroundings are for us. To see if there are things we could change to make things more comfortable for us as a couple. Like whether we need an office to work in, whether we need a bigger closet, separate bathrooms, or just more space in general. Or maybe we don’t need all the space we have and want something a bit more intimate. Things like that before we upheaval everything from one apartment to the other.”

“Change whatever you want,” he reassures solidly, as she offers a wry smile. “No seriously. You want another bathroom, we’ll build it. You want the whole closet? Take it and I’ll put my shit upstairs.”

“You’re missing my point. This isn’t about what Gerri wants. It’s about what we both want collectively to maximise our space. What if I said, I want a house without any TV’s?” She challenges with a raised eyebrow as he grimaces.

“Exactly,” she laughs. “We’ve only ever stayed over and been content in each other’s space because we knew it was the other persons and were mere guests. But the more we live together; we’ll realise what we might need. We might want a separate bathroom from each other, or just a separate sink, or we might be fine with just the one sink. Like you suggested earlier, I might want a little quiet room where I read, while you want a room where you can play your video games and shout at teenagers down a headset. Or we might be content to do those things sitting together because we’re happy with the way things are. You see what I mean?”

“Yeah, I get it,” he nods. “It’s not just a test for me.”

“No,” she smiles. “You don’t get a performance review at the end of the month. It’s about getting to know each other more, so we can adjust the way we do things to make things even easier. Like my need for things to be tidy is very important to me and that means you may need to make an effort to be conscious of that, so my head doesn’t continuously explode,” she laughs as he grins. “But I also need to adjust myself to not be so obsessive because you’re a grown man who can leave your underwear on the floor from time to time. There will be other things. Things you’ll find irritating about me and vice versa, but if we can communicate and try and be understanding then it’ll be fine,” she soothes.

“You make it sound like it’s going to be all shitty. Like we’re just going to spend the whole time being angry at each other,” he mumbles sadly.

“No, it won’t be all shitty but there will be moments because that’s normal. Like the fact that I will probably have to work from home most evenings. That’s probably going to get on your nerves. That it won’t be so easy to coax me away from work into bed because while it was okay to do once a week when we saw each other, I won’t be led astray every night because it’s my job that I get paid a shit load to do. Not to mention, I’ll probably encouraging you to do work alongside me. That’s going to get on your nerves,” she laughs a little at his nose progressively scrunching up.

“Fuck,” he huffs. “I forgot I’m also going to be living with my boss.”

“Your boss and a drill sergeant,” she repeats with raised eyebrows. “What happened to hot goddess and siren? You really do know how to flatter a girl,” she jokes as he looks around to her with his face still scrunched up as she reaches her hand over to put her wine glass down on the coffee table. “It won’t be all fighting and work you know,” she lowers her voice a little more seductively as she looks back around to him. “There’ll be plenty of everything else.”

“Mmm,” he hums, his hand trailing up her thigh. “That’s the bit I was looking forward to.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathes as her lips move closer to his. “I thought it was going to be all fucking on every surface. Multiple orgasms and sex dungeons. Finding all the ways I could get you to squeal. Spooning you every night and lying watching the news with my head in your lap,” he offers, quirking his eyebrows.

“Mmm… I don’t know about sex dungeons but there’s no reason there can’t be plenty of the rest of it,” she breathes low against his lips, her hot breath swooshing into his mouth.

“Gerri,” he whispers back, before he kisses her solidly, pushing her down onto the couch as his hand grips her hip. He hears her moan when he pushes into her mouth, languidly caressing her tongue with his as her hands grip the back of his neck, one moving to exploring the expanse of his shoulders as his hand ventures up under her shirt.

She knows if this goes any further, she’ll never get packed or get any of the work they had to do done. 

“Rome,” she whispers, moving to push him back a little.

“What? We’ve never done it on this couch,” he breathes nipping at the underside of her jaw as she gasps. “Thought we could christen it. There’s a romantic fire and everything.”

“We have things to do,” she tries to protest as her eyes close at the feeling surrounding her.

“This is all we have to do,” he tells her as his open kisses move to her pulse point, whilst she grins.

“There’s a lot to do,” she protests, pushing him away as his forehead meets her.

“Nooooo,” he groans. “No, there isn’t.”

“I need to pack everything away, and we have go over the information for tomorrow,” she reminds him, stroking her nose back and forth against his as he huffs.

“Can’t we just have fucking five minutes before we have to do the shitty stuff?” He protests.

“Or we can make the shitty stuff not so shitty and then have more to look forward to afterwards?”

“Well,” he pulls back. “I already had my own plans for this evening.”

“Oh, did you?” She smirks.

“Yes. Your bath for starters.”

“Well, how about this,” she narrows her eyes to negotiate as he offers a quick peck to distract her. “How about I go find somewhere to put the things I brought tonight,” she begins before he interrupts her.

“I cleared out drawers and closet space.”

“Oh, really? Well then that makes this all the easier,” she smiles, pecking his lips. “Then, I’ll go put it all away while you run the bath, then we go over the things for the interview and the meeting with the heads while I’m in the bath. Then afterwards we go back to our night. Hmm?” She negotiates, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“The whole point in the bath was to relax. Not to work,” he argues, burying his head into her neck.

“Well maybe relaxing in the bath means I won’t get stressed about work,” she reasons, closing her eyes, wrapping her arms around his back.

“Fine,” he moans, pulling back. “But then it’s my plans for the rest of the night.”

“Then I’m all yours,” she declares.

He groans loudly before offering a final peck and getting up with a huff.

“Come on then,” he bitches, holding his hands out to her to pull her up. “Let’s get this over with.”

****

She settles into the large bathtub he had filled for her, more bubbles than water at this point with the aroma of grapefruit that he had spoken of earlier; easily half the bottle in here. She closes her eyes, relaxing into the boiling hot water, allowing her muscles to ease up as she shifts her legs from side to side, hearing as he shuffles in, jumping up onto the counter.

When she opens her eyes, she sees he’s sitting back against the wall, the unharmed part of his face reflected in the mirror, his battered side facing her, his tablet balanced on his thighs, concentrating diligently as his eyes dart back and forth across the words he’s reading.

“That’s new,” she notes, as he looks up to her innocently.

She nods her head towards the little black speaker plugged into the wall, wrapped around the sink and settled in front of his bare feet.

“Yeah,” he trails off, turning his attention back to the tablet. “I forgot I had it. Was given it at some award show. But I thought you might like it when you’re in here. You can just play your playlist and when you want it to change you just say _Alexa, next_ and it’ll change the song to the next one.”

It’s then that the Alexa speaker, lights up and asks, “what do you want to play?”

“See,” he nods. “Thought it would be good in the bath. Plus, if you want to play a random song then it just plays. Alexa!” He shouts, watching it light up again. “Play Landslide Live by Fleetwood Mac.”

“Landslide live at Warner Brothers Studios in Burbank, California 23rd May 1997 by Fleetwood Mac on Amazon Music,” the Alexa monotonously repeats back before the opening chords of the guitar begin playing as he raises an eyebrow at her.

“That’s pretty cool,” she nods.

“You never had an Alexa?”

“Your father discouraged it and I didn’t see the need anyway but it’s actually quite a useful little thing isn’t it?” She notes, still looking at it as she listens to the song.

“Alexa!” He says, “volume three.”

The volume instantly lowers so that it’s playing faintly in the background.

“The volume goes from one to ten, so you just lower it like that. And if you want it to play songs by an artist or album you just ask it to. Or you can go on your phone and hook it up to play your own playlist and shuffle it,” he tells her quietly, as he looks back down to the tablet.

“That was very thoughtful, Rome,” she smiles, running her hands through the water, coming up to take the bubbles in her hands.

“Do you listen to music in the bath?”

“Sometimes. I like to listen to classical music when I relax,” she divulges closing her eyes and leaning her head back on the bathtub.

“Oh yeah?” He asks curiously.

“Mmm,” she hums. “Apparently there are studies about classical music; that it’s supposed to help you relax and concentrate. Sometimes I listen to it when I’m trying to work on something because it’s supposed to chill you out.”

“Does it work?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, opening her eyes again, smiling at his interest. “Maybe you should give it a try.”

“Maybe I will,” he curls his lips, scrolling the screen up on the tablet.

“It sounds stupid, but I play the Fantasia album. You know the 40’s Disney movie?”

“Yeah, with the dancing flowers and the centaurs and shit?” He laughs a little. “Forgot about that. Loved it when I was a kid.”

“Yeah,” she smirks. “It has a mix of lots of well-known pieces and they are quite easy going.”

“Do you go to see orchestras and shit then? The Philharmonic at the Lincoln Center?”

“Sometimes,” she smiles, picking up bubbles with her hands and moulding it before transferring them between each hand. “When I get the time and there’s something interesting.”

He hums a little before looking back down to the tablet, huffing as she silently sculpts the bubbles.

“Okay, Alexa, pause,” he says as the song ceases. “Let’s get this over with,” he pouts. “So, the meeting tomorrow?”

“I’m not so worried about that,” she sighs. “I think the best option is just to announce it at the beginning. It’s been put at the top of the agenda already. It will be a lean cut. We’re in a relationship, we have informed the board, there will be an investigation, there will be an interview released on Wednesday, and we would appreciate your discretion until that point,” she says resolutely, lifting her leg and running the liquid across it to knead above her right knee that had been aching a little recently.

“Right,” he nods quietly.

“I don’t want to invite any commentary or opinion because to be honest, it’s none of their fucking business so,” she shrugs, lowering her leg and bringing her arms to rest on each side of the bathtub.

“And what am I supposed to do? There’s no mention of me anywhere here,” he looks up to her.

“Is there something you want to say?”

“Uhm… I don’t know,” he twists his lips. “But it’s like both of us so I feel like I should maybe say something, or it would just be awkward.”

“All right. But I think it’s very important that we remain professional,” she smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He laughs through his question.

“Well,” she chuckles, lifting her hand to stroke through the front of her hair to push the small wisps away, careful not to undo the clasp holding it all together. “I don’t think there should be jokes, especially not crass ones, nor should there be anything such as a fist pump in the air, a high five, or flipping them off smugly,” she smirks at him.

He snorts loudly, leaning the back of his head against the tiles behind him, a smirk on his lips as he looks up to the ceiling.

“So, I’ve not to be me then,” he offers a wry smile, looking back to her.

“I know you and I know that you’ll want to gloat,” she challenges with mirth.

“And why the fuck shouldn’t I? Like look at you right now,” he throws his hands up looking at her with raised eyebrows, releasing all the air in his lungs. “You looking fucking beautiful surrounded by all the fucking bubbles with your hair all curling and shit and I can’t even brag? Why can’t I fucking let them know I’ve triumphed in bagging the fucking hot top legal eagle of this generation?”

She can’t help but grin at his compliments, shifting her legs from bending to straight and bent again as she picks up a collection of bubbles with two fingers, almost embarrassed at his attentions and the thoughtfulness he had already put into this evening to accommodate her.

“Because,” she smirks. “The announcement alone with make clear that you’ve _bagged_ me. Not to mention that they likely don’t see me the way you do so there isn’t much to brag about.”

She’s not ignorant enough to think she’s unattractive, but she doesn’t consider herself a raving beauty though she knows she’s not ugly. However, what she definitely does know is that no one on the whole world is as infatuated with her or sees her how Roman does. No one could ever be obsessed with her and everything she does as much as he, and the thought that he wants to shout that from the rooftops though flattering to her, made her cringe at how others would react to his delusion.

“Are you serious?” He questions with a scrunched-up face as she looks to him innocently. “You really don’t fucking know do you?” He asks her seriously.

“Know what?” She asks, her head tilting to the side as her fingers run up and down the edge of the bathtub.

He puffs out loudly, his eyes wide, shaking his head.

“You’re like fucking top tier,” he tries to explain, his eyes narrowing. “Like if you took a fucking poll in Waystar, you would be one of, if not thee top rated as most fuckable. And not even that, putting aside that people don’t even know the real you which would make people want you even more because of how, you know, caring you are, but then the fact you’re a fucking genius and the most with it person basically everyone knows, makes you a fucking catch.”

“Roman,” she smiles gently. “Not everyone thinks the same way you do,” she quirks an eyebrow, her lower stomach swirling with arousal.

“Maybe not, but I’m not just talking about me, Gerri. It’s pretty fucking well known. I already told you that Laird chose you as marry in Fuck, Marry, Kill,” he tells her resolutely as she shakes her head with an eyeroll. “If I went around every single fucking person in Waystar tomorrow and asked them if they would fuck you, you could guarantee it would be 100%, including women by the way. If I asked them if they would marry you, it would be a little less because some people are afraid of you, but still, you’re fucking up there.”

“Well,” she coughs a little with a smile, “while I think you’re vastly overestimating your hypothesis there, I will take it for the compliment it is, but it doesn’t negate that I would rather you kept your desire to boast on the back burner.”

“Well,” he imitates her, “while I think I’m overestimating fuck all, I still think I should at least say something so it’s coming from both of us rather than just the big boss lady.”

“Then what are you thinking?” She asks as she watches her fingers swirling, creating a pattern on the surface of the water next to her thigh through the soap.

“Maybe I can be the one to ask for some discretion until the interview is released? Like not as a joke. Sincerely,” he suggests watching the pattern she is also swirling, taking in how perfect she looks as her face and skin on her neck is a little flushed from the piping hot water, the escaped strands of hair already curling to their natural state from the humidity, the bubbles veiling the majority of her body from him. He wants to take a picture of it to always remember how stunning she looks right now, though he knows she would never allow him. He tries to burn it into his memory, though he realises this was his new normal, that he would be seeing her in this form on a regular basis and that warms his whole chest as she looks up to him with a soft smile, collecting some bubbles between her two fingers as she raises her hand back up to the side of the bathtub.

“I don’t see why not,” she offers lightly. “I just want to make sure we are direct about it. We aren’t discussing it with them like they’re our advisors. We’re informing them.”

“Surely the ones that don’t know will congratulate us though?”

“I’m sure they will, even if they have reservations. So, we just offer our thanks and move on.”

“And what’s the deal if people approach us later with questions?” He asks, looking down at the tablet again.

“No one will be approaching me with questions,” she offers a wry smile.

“Okay,” he huffs with a laugh. “When they obviously ask me questions?”

“Just stick to the interview story we’re giving the press so if it leaks, then it’s nothing new.”

“Okay, so you want to go over the interview story then?” He asks scrolling down the page to the interview notes.

“It’s all preapproved questions anyway so we shouldn’t be hit with anything out of the ordinary. We just need to make sure it isn’t rehearsed and comes across genuine.”

“Yeah, but I just want to make sure I’ve got it down and like rehearse it,” he says quietly, reading over the notes diligently.

“Okey, honey,” she sighs contentedly, leaning her head back onto the back of the bathtub, closing her eyes.

****

They recite their backstory from beginning to end several times before she is exceptionally pruned, most of the bubbles evaporated.

He helps her out of the bath, wrapping her in a towel, darting out of the bathroom with the tablet as she dries herself off to finish his preparations.

“So, what are these plans you have for tonight?” She asks lightly as she walks into the bedroom, stopping in her tracks as she looks around.

He’s standing with a smile by the bed, the room dark with candles lit around it on every surface, a large white blanket over the bed with a single white rose sitting on her pillow.

Her smile grows into a grin as she looks up to him.

“What’s all this?” She breaths, wrapping the towel firmer around her and tucking it in tightly.

“I made things rosy,” he smiles, walking towards her.

“I see,” she laughs, meeting him in the middle at the bottom of the bed, bringing her hands up to his shoulders, as he wraps his around her waist, the edge of a bottle he’d holding pressing into her.

“What’s that?” She asks as her smile drops and she tries to look around behind her back before he pulls it in front for her to see.

“Oil to give you a massage,” he shrugs, holding it up.

“A massage?” She grins, baring her teeth, her nose crinkling. “La Mer?”

“That’s the shit you use right?” He asks reticently, fearing he’s failed in his observations somehow. “I went into Bloomingdales and spoke to the woman there. She said you’d like this. Sold me a bunch of other shit she said you’d like as well. I put the rest of it in the bathroom. It’s in the cupboard to the left,” he divulges, as her arms wrap tighter around his neck, her face coming closer to his as she presses her body hard against his.

“Honey,” she begins lightly. “You didn’t have to do all this. I told you that we both have to work at making this rosy.”

“I wanted to,” he offers sincerely, his hand wrapping back around her waist to pull her even closer to him if that was possible. “It’s our first night and I wanted to make it special.”

“You don’t have to impress me,” she breathes, her lips skimming his as she offers a chaste kiss. “You’ve got me.”

“This isn’t impressing you,” he whispers back, returning her light peck. “This is how I want it to always be. I want to take care of you.”

“That’s very sweet,” she sighs, offering a more loving kiss as he returns it, exploring her mouth, squeezing her solidly to him, before she pulls away with a smile. “You want to give me a massage?” She giggles.

“Yeah,” he breathes, his pupils blackening as he offers another quick kiss as she titters through it.

“Do you know how to, or?” She asks seriously, her eyes full of levity.

“I know a little something, something,” he smirks. “Let these hands work their magic,” he groans, lowering his hands down to her derriere to knead there. “Trust me,” he murmurs into her neck as his tongue explores there. Her eyes close at the charge building up between them, at that swirling feeling returns to her stomach. “Let me worship you,” he breathes in her ear as a small gasp leaves her mouth involuntarily.

“Okay,” she chokes out, pulling back to look at him, as she notes his attempts to regulate his breathing.

“Good girl,” he growls, tapping her ass, as he pulls back from her, her eyes narrowing at the gesture. “On the bed,” he instructs, his voice suddenly back to normal.

She smiles, kneeling up onto the bed and crawling up to it, before she picks up the single rose to smell it, her grin widening.

“I told Maria to bring the other one’s with her tomorrow,” she divulges looking down at it. “I couldn’t leave them behind to wilt.”

“If you did, I would have bought you more,” he smiles, moving around to the bedside table, before unscrewing the cap from the bottle of oil.

“I have no doubt,” she smiles, setting the rose next to her before lying on her front. “Are you doing the shoulders?” She asks, regarding the pillow.

“Fuck yeah,” he scoffs. “This is about releasing her majesties tension.”

She smiles, throwing the pillow to the side, deciding she didn’t want to risk it getting covered in shit before she lies down carefully onto the blanket, ensuring nothing can reach the bed covers.

“What about Chuck? Is he coming in the move?” Roman asks lightly.

She turns around to look at him, points her head to the couch next to the doorway to the bathroom, where Chuck is happily sitting next to a large pillow.

“There he is!” Roman shouts. “My little buddy.”

“Like I would leave him behind,” she laughs, settling back down onto her arms.

“I would have you arrested for neglect and abandonment,” he pouts, reading the back of the bottle he’s holding as he rests his thigh against the bedside table.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a massage that wasn’t from a masseuse, nor from a man,” she divulges with a laugh, folding her arms under her cheek as he pours a shit load of liquid onto his hands, kneeling up onto the bed.

“You’ve never had a Roman Roy massage. It’s gonna blow your fucking mind,” he deadpans as he climbs on top of her, sitting on her backside.

She can’t help but laughing as she feels his weight on top of her.

“I also don’t think I’ve ever had a masseuse clamber on top of me,” she laughs, leaning up, looking around to him over her shoulder.

“I should hope fucking not,” he leans down to kiss her lips before she leans back down onto her arms again. “But if you did, I would definitely want to hear the story.”

She offers a chuckle as his oil clad warm hands finally make contact with her back, rubbing the liquid across the expanse, pushing her loose towel down further down until it was settles at her hips as he runs his hands randomly across her whole back spreading the oil around. She realises that at first, he has absolutely no technique, moving from up to down, then from side to side, then motioning circles from the top of her back continuously until he was circling his hands at her waist. She doesn’t mind though, didn’t expect some fucking expert deep tissue massage from him; she’s simply enjoying the contact, the feeling, and the smell of the oil and candles permeating her nostrils, creating a completely relaxing atmosphere. It’s then though that his technique becomes more coordinated, moving the liquid up to her shoulders, clasping them as he firmly rubs across the muscles from the joint of her shoulder towards her neck, the tips of his fingers brushing her clavicle as he follows the line up to the hard muscles of her neck until he rubs circles at the underside of her skull where all her tension regularly builds up.

She can hear herself groaning at the feeling. A mixture of pain, pleasure, and relief as he continues kneading there.

“Is it sore?” He asks, ceasing his actions.

“No, don’t stop,” she growls, her eyes tightly closed as she brings her arms out from under her head, to lie on the bed next to her.

He can’t help the smirk that forms on his lips, that he may actually be helping to give her some relief.

He continues the same regular pathway along her shoulders a few times more until he feels the tension begin to leave her, until he sees that the area is starting to redden before he finds a new focus. Instead this time he leaves his hands on her shoulders, pressing his thumbs next to her shoulder blades, rubbing in circular motions. He hears that delicious groan from her lips again, her hands next to her head on the bed grasping the cover as she enjoys his ministrations.

“Fuck,” she moans as he moves his dextrous hands to rub down and back up the line of her shoulder blade, stopping when he feels knots there to try and give them careful attention. Once he hears her gasps become more strained into pain, he stops immediately, rubbing his hands up and down the expanse of her back again to move around the unabsorbed lotion.

“Do you want me to crack your back?” He asks quietly.

“If you can,” she chokes out, her eyes still closed as she takes in the euphoria of this feeling.

He smiles, splaying his hands out on each side of her back, rising his hips off of her before putting all of his weight onto it on his inhale, moving his hands a little until he hears a crack and her small gasp. He exhales as he lets go, rubbing her back again before moving his hands lower to her waist, putting all his weight on her on his inhale again and letting go when he again hears a crack, before rubbing his hands across her again.

“You know,” he observes. “You have a lot of tension here. Why don’t you go for massages more often?”

“When would I get the time?” She groans out her muffled question as he rubs his hands hard up the expanse of her sides, trying to release all the tension he can.

“Well we’re going to have to change that. I might be a mediocre substitute, but you need a professional to really work on all this,” he says again, removing his weight off of her to shuffle down so he’s hovering above her thighs.

“You’re doing pretty well from where I’m lying,” she mumbles again, as he smiles happily, glad for her approval.

“Let’s get this to fuck,” he groans as he pulls the towel away, yanking it out from under her as she adjusts her weight to make it easier to pull, listening as it thuds onto the floor. He leans forward, pressing up against her back to kiss the back of her neck, whispering in her ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll pick it up later.” He offers a small Roman giggle, before sitting back up.

“I don’t give a fuck if it lies there all night, just don’t stop what you’re doing,” she says lifting her head a little so he can hear her clearly.

“Oh, it’s not over lady,” he laughs as he takes in what lies before him; the curves, the pale skin, her form practically unscathed apart from a few freckles here, a few marks there. She’s beautiful, an absolute work of art, and he can’t believe he gets to look at her like this every day now.

“I thought it wasn’t over,” she lifts her head again, attempting to look over her shoulder though she’s too tired to stretch.

“Wow,” he drones. “Look who’s impatient,” he laughs before running his hands across the bottom of her back, concentrating on the muscles at her back dimples.

“Mmm,” he observes, as he kneads them. “I love that you have dimples of Venus.”

“Why?” She groans as she bites her lip from the pleasure, the knot in her stomach not subsiding at all.

“I don’t know. It’s thought that the most beautiful women in the world have them so obviously you would. Factual proof,” he smiles continuing his attention on them.

“I’m not so—,” she starts before she gasps at a particularly hard manoeuvre. “— sure about that.”

He keeps his attention there before allowing his hands to wander her hips, running his hands across there, forever noting the small indentation her underwear has left as he feels his need for her growing. The next part of his plan was nearly in motion and he couldn’t fucking wait.

He stops his ministrations, leaning over to pick up the oil again to fill his hands with them before moving back to his place, moving off of one thigh at first and nudging her legs apart.

“Spread your legs,” he orders softly, as she raises her head, her already pooling centre practically flooding now.

“What?” She whispers breathily, only staring at the lamp on the bedside table.

“Spread your legs,” he repeats louder. “I can’t sit on your legs if I’m going to massage them.”

She can feel her arousal increasing as she slowly moves her legs apart, her pelvis pushing deeper into the mattress, her whole sex completely exposed to him. God, she wants him to touch her there.

However, he can see it for himself, smirks as he sees her centre glistening, already waiting for him and it takes everything in his power not to just indulge. He wants to draw this out, wants to build it up, wants to give her one of the most intense experiences she’s ever had, and to do that he would need to tease her a little.

He spreads the liquid equally into his hands, putting a hand on each of her cheeks, giving the illusion he is going exactly where she thinks he is before running his hands further down her thighs, continuing past the inside of her knee and down to her calf. He goes back to his starting point and this time collects some of the liquid, starting from her ankle this time before running his hands all the way up, ensuring that he brushes the inside of her thighs this time as he hears a small gasp fall from her mouth.

“It feels so good,” she groans, her mouth wet against the covers.

The smirk is plastered to his face as he kneads the liquid against her cheeks, massaging firmly before lowering a little before completely bypassing her thighs and going directly to her left calf. He hears her loud exhale of released anticipation as he kneads from her ankle up to her inner knee a few times before moving swiftly onto her right calf, harshly kneading there too.

It’s then that he looks back up to her body, noting her deeper breathing as her whole body rises and falls, as the glistening of her centre has left a small stain on the cover. He licks his lips at the thought that this alone was turning her on, however, he is aware that he’s going to have to push this whole thing along because his own hard on is becoming a progressive issue.

He finally moves his hands to the back of her thighs rubbing progressively from the inside of her knees up to the top as his thumbs lightly brush against her centre, feeling a small jerk of her hips when he does so, her centre contracting a little.

“Fuck, Rome,” he hears her whisper as he moves all of his attention to one of her thighs, pretending to massage as he lightly brushes his fingers along the inside, looking up to her head to see if she is responding to his teasing.

He can see her breathing becoming more ragged, can hear her gasps become more frequent, and can see her hand twisting harder into the cover as he grins widely.

“You okay, babe?” He asks casually, thankful she can’t see his shit eating grin.

“Yeah. Don’t stop,” she breathes.

Not a fucking chance, he thinks.

He moves his hands to the other thigh, giving the same attention, the same teasing, the same light caresses to the inside as his attentions gain the same reaction, the twitching of her hips becoming more of a shudder.

He decides to begin truly making his intentions known as he runs his fingers gently from the inside of her knees up the inside of her thighs before gently grazing her centre, noting it’s seizing becoming more obvious, his dick now straining to be inside her, his tongue begging to lap her up.

He’s waiting for her to say something, wonders if she will, curious if she will ask for it, understanding that she is sufficiently teased but perhaps not enough to be on the brink of desperation.

He moves his hands back to her ass, rubbing across it before trailing down to her centre, noting the gasp she emits as he runs a hand deep across her, feeling the juices there as he grazes her clit before running his hand back up to her behind, spending more time there. Eventually he runs his hand back down one more time, this time touching her clit harder, rubbing there for a few seconds before pulling back and running his hands across her behind and hips.

“Rome,” she pants, her voice laced with arousal, leaning up onto her elbows. “Please, honey.”

And there it is. The recognition he needed, before he fully runs his hand through her folds, moving the juices around as she audibly gasps, her forehead falling back onto the bed, her hips pushing against his hand as the heel of his palm moves against her entrance and the pads of his fingers find her clit.

“Oh god,” she moans loudly. “Yes, honey.”

He looked up how to give a happy ending. Would be lying if he said he hadn’t had one himself. However, he had no idea how to issue one, especially to a woman. The thought of running his hands all over Gerri and finally get her off when she was fully built up enough was one that had been plaguing his mind all day. He was unsure if he could do it well enough, however, if there was one thing he had always wanted to do was to explore Gerri’s entire body. He knew as well that fucking a woman from behind was supposed to be pretty fucking great in hitting the G-spot, but that was something they hadn’t really done, always wanting to create a face to face connection, but he viewed this as a prime opportunity to give it a try.

He continues rubbing against her as her pelvis happily responds, his free hand perched on the bed next to her hip as his hard on presses against the inside of her thigh. He watches as her hand wanders down as though trying to reach him, finally finding his hand and trying to grasp it whilst he listens to her ragged breathing.

“That feel good?” He asks.

“Yes,” she pants. “Fuck yes. Keep going.”

He leans down to kiss her spine at her waist, trailing his lips upwards, never ceasing the rubbing of her clit, the pressure from the heel of his hand as he feels her movements become more desperate.

“That’s it, Gerri,” he groans between her shoulder blades. “Come for me.”

He can hear the desperation in her moans as she writhes; her whole body squirming as he increases his tempo against her, his fingers pressing harder against her as he hears her begin to scream.

“Yes, Roman. Yes, fuck. Right there,” she squeals, tightening her hand on his, pushing her chest harder into the bed, on the brink of her orgasm as she falls over the edge.

“Oh my god,” she groans, pushing her head into the bed. “Yes, fuck,” she whines as her orgasm takes over every nerve in her body, her hips gyrating harder into his hand, her centre spasming as it flushes with liquid. “Jesus Christ,” she mumbles into the mattress, her hair becoming looser within its clip as she reaches behind her head to undo it, her hair falling down as she pushes it back from her face as she lies there exhausted, whilst his hand moves slower across her centre, taking in the aftershocks before he pulls back.

“Where the fuck did you learn to do that?” She asks, as she pants, the feeling in her stomach still not dissipated, still waiting for him to fill her completely.

“How do you know it isn’t just an ingenious talent I have?” He smirks as he hovers over her body, kissing her shoulder before she perches on her elbows, leaning up to kiss him fully.

“Because you would have pulled that out the bag long before now,” she groans, nipping his lip with her teeth.

“Maybe I just discovered right now it was a talent,” he quirks an eyebrow, kissing her lips hard again, pushing his hard on up against her ass, rubbing there slightly.

“I can confirm, it is,” she groans, pushing her tongue into his mouth as he pushes her hair back from her face, framing his thighs to press up against the back of hers as he passionately wars with her tongue.

“Are you ready?” She asks in a mumble against his lips, though she knows he is, can feel it hard up against her.

He pulls back a little, gyrating his hips up against her.

“Fuck yes,” he laughs, kissing her deeply again, before she pulls back from his mouth.

“Do it now, baby,” she breathes, kissing his lips briefly though hard. “I need you inside me.”

She sounds desperate, more desperate than he’s ever heard her, and he’s not willing to deny her anything ever again.

He kneels up quickly, pushing his sweatpants down quickly, kicking them off behind him so he doesn’t have any restrictions.

“Take the t-shirt off,” she orders, looking over her shoulder. “I want to feel you.”

He groans loudly again before pulling the t-shirt off over his head and throwing it to the side before leaning forward and pressing his free dick up against her behind, pressing his chest to her back to receive the remnants of her oil on him, pushing his lips into her hair as she turns her head so he’s pressing into her neck whilst she grinds her behind up into his hard erection.

“Gerri,” he groans into her neck as his tongue attacks her, his elbows perched on either side of her chest, her hand reaching up over her shoulder to push the back of his head harder into her neck as she gasps at the sensation it’s creating in her.

She’s never felt so alive, so adored, so fucking stimulated.

“Rome, baby,” she breathes as she moves her mouth to find his, her neck taking the strain so she can run her tongue across his passionately.

When he can’t take it anymore, he pulls back, buries his head into the back of her neck as she looks forward panting, perching on her elbows. He jumps up onto his knees, looking down at her soft shining skin, her golden hair, her silky cunt as he grasps her hips, pulling her towards him to encourage her onto her knees, kissing her back again as he reaches around the front of her to push his fingers up against her nub.

“Oh, Rome, honey. Please,” she begs, still perching on her elbows.

He reaches down to his erection, tugging a few times before pushing into her cunt, feeling the familiar warm slickness that he only enjoys when within her. Within Gerri; his fucking siren, the fucking lighthouse in his storm, the love of his fucking sorry life. If he could choose anywhere to be at any given time, it would be right here; wrapped around her, his skin pressed to hers, her scent invading his nostrils, buried deep inside her, listening to her little gasps of pleasure, his balls tight from the suspense of his own release.

The huge sigh of relief he has from being inside her releases as she gasps loudly, pushing back hard against him, the angle of him within her hitting the special spot perfectly. He begins moving, one hand still wrapped around her to tease her clit, as the other holds onto her hip.

It’s different being in this angle, not being able to see her face, her reactions, her striking blue eyes, her plump lips. He can’t watch for her reactions, can’t really press his lips against hers, but this is about her; about creating her pleasure first and foremost and while he misses all the other stuff, he’s still deep inside her and that’s all he needs.

He instead focusses on moving back and forth within her, ensure that his angle hits properly so he can rub her g-spot, ensures that he continues to rub against her clit, presses his lips against her spine so she knows how much he wants her. He moves to press against her back as he listens to her gasps with each thrust, lifts his hand from her hip to knead her breast as he gyrates into her.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groans into her neck as she twists her head towards him, his hand moving from her breast to push her hair away before she kisses him hard, her gasps entering his mouth with each continued thrust.

“Rome,” she groans. “I want you,” she pants against his mouth as her eyes flutter closed, the connection of their lips broken, her hips pushing harder back against him as his hips speed up at her words.

“Fuck Gerri. Yes,” he hisses as he pounds harder into her, the leverage in this position the best it’s ever been as he rails into her, his hands now perched on both hips as hers dig deeply into the mattress as she kneels in front of him.

“Fuck, yes, Roman. Harder, harder. Fuck. Give it to me,” she pants between each thrust.

He feels like he can’t hold on any longer, wants to wait for her to let go and seize around him but his dick is throbbing within her, his balls are bursting, and he can’t help but spill inside her with a loud groan, continuing his hammering into her, trying to get her over the edge before he slackens. Relief fills him when he hears that familiar scream, feels that familiar clenching in her core.

“Yes,” is all he can hear her whisper on repeat as she comes down from her orgasm, as he simply holds onto her waist, his chest pressed against her back, his forehead hard against the top of her spine as he tries to get his breath back.

He eventually pulls out of her, watching as she lies back down on her stomach panting, he more or less falling half on her as she faces him; his hands pushing her hair back from her face again so he can watch her come down.

“Well that was something,” she sighs deeply with a smile.

“Never had a happy ending?” He laughs, kissing her arm.

“I can’t say I have. Clearly I’ve been missing out,” she moves closer to him, nuzzling her nose against his temple as he takes her hint, leans up to kiss her lovingly, noting her instant response as she moves to her side, rolling onto her back so he can wrap around her, both of them pouring every ounce of affection into the kiss, into the small caresses and touches that they couldn’t possibly vocalise right now.

Their kiss slows, becoming pecks as she pushes his hair back from his forehead as he closes his eyes enjoying her attentions. She takes a moment to appreciate his boyish good looks even with his battered face, his tired brown eyes now staring into hers, running her hand down to graze against his stubble.

“You know, I think I have a crush on you,” she smiles sweetly. 

“You think?” He grins widely.

“Is it weird to have a crush on your own boyfriend?” She asks sarcastically.

“Maybe a little,” he shrugs lightly, leaning forward to lazily kiss her lips. “But I’m not really one to ask. I have a huge fucking crush on my girlfriend. Irreversible.”

She scoffs a little, moving her hand back up to push through his hair until she pulls the back of his head down to rest on her chest, her eyes closing as she feels his warmth around her, his fingers caressing the underside of her breast, their legs tangled together, whilst she runs her fingers along the soft skin of his shoulders.

“You know,” she almost whispers. “Everything you’ve done for me moving here is probably the sweetest, most thoughtful thing that’s ever been done for me in my whole life,” she divulges into the open room, her eyes still closed.

“I’d do anything for you,” he tells her honestly. “Literally anything.”

“I think I’ve just fallen even harder in love with you than I ever thought possible,” she reveals seriously as her hand absently explores his back.

“I think I fell hard long before you,” he mumbles, pressing a soft kiss to her clavicle.

“Do you know when you did?” She asks curiously. “Was it by chance when I uttered the words slime puppy?” She asks laughing as he snickers, moving his hand down to drift against her side.

“I don’t know. Don’t really think I understood what love was. All I know is that I was seeking you out. I wanted you around me all the time in the early days as well. Whenever I saw you; when you were drifting around a room, or talking to someone, or in a meeting, or at a charity event. I would just watch you,” he smiles against her skin. “I loved watching you. How you hold a pen and sometimes twist it around when you’re trying to figure something out. How you would push your hair out of your face when it would annoy you. Or when you lick your lips when you’re trying to preamble how you’re going to word something you deem delicate. How you lift your mug or a glass to your lips and hold it so delicately when you take a sip, how your cheeks would suck in when you were appreciating the taste,” he continues thinking of all the things he had noted then and still loves to watch now, before he laughs a little. “You do this thing as well, where you like invert your lips when you’re trying to hold something in. Like you’re physically trying to hold it in. I remember when dad first said he wanted to go for Pierce and Ken was like trying to feel us out and you were trying to convince him you thought it was exciting. You literally tightened your lips together and bit them like you were afraid you’d blurt it out if you didn’t,” he chuckles a little as a small smile forms on her lips, listening to his adoration. “Even how you clap your hands. You always tap your right fingers against your left palm. I just couldn’t stop watching everything.”

“I didn’t realise you were paying attention to every single little thing I did. I mean,” she scoffs. “I knew you were watching me at times, but I didn’t realise you were watching that closely.”

“I was obsessed. I wanted to know every single thing,” he reveals a little embarrassed. “Still do. Though now I don’t feel the overwhelming feeling to seek you out every minute of every day.”

“Ahh,” she laughs. “The infatuation is finally wearing off then.”

“Mmm,” he hums. “I don’t know about that. I’m still fascinated by you. But I try ration myself now, like a good boy,” he offers lightly, looking up to her through his eyelashes.

“A very good boy,” she smiles, pecking his forehead as he settled back down thinking about it.

“I think I started to fall that night in Argestes. When I came to see you, after you know,” he flickers his eyes away, staring off out to the Manhattan skyline. “You just comforted me like I’ve never been comforted before. Just stroked my hair and said _It’s going to be okay_ ,” he whispers, smiling lightly. “It’s the first time I ever believed it actually might be. And then you just let me cling onto you, letting me be broken.”

Her eyes are shining, she remembers that night well; remembers the heartbreak she had felt watching all his barriers break down so easily for the first time so openly.

“But like really love you? When did I think I was truly in love with you? Like no going back? I think it’s when you caught that rapid hard hit from Frank in Hawaii and he was out,” he deadpans as she starts laughing, her unshed tear falling as she wipes it away giggling.

“It was then and there I knew I had to marry you,” he says resolutely with a resigned shrug.

“You ass,” she chokes out through her chuckle.

“I’m kidding,” he smiles, looking up to her. “I think it was that night in London. When you we were outside the townhouse and you were so interested in everything. You looked so fucking beautiful. Then how exicted you were to see that poets house. I wanted to make you that happy for every minute of my sorry life. I just knew I needed you with me forever,” he smiles, as she chokes out a gasp, moving closer to him to kiss him solidly, as he wraps his arm around her firmly, pulling her closer whilst they pour all the emotion into their kiss.

She pulls back, pressing her forehead into his, her eyes closed.

“Turkey,” she whispers. “When I thought you were dead in the hostage situation. That’s when I realised, I was falling. That it was something deeper. I’d been hiding it from myself up until that point,” he listens intently, lying back down onto her chest as she continues. “But truly falling with no going back? I don’t know. I keep falling harder and harder. When you took care of me that night I was exhausted, and you took me to the bunker. The night in the Ritz when you didn’t answer your phone and I thought something had happened. When I started to realise you didn’t just want to fuck me and you wanted to take care of me and be with me. And our London adventure, seeing that new side to you and realising that I wanted that life with you, that I wanted in, that I didn’t want to go back to my boring life before you were a part of it. But the final nail in the coffin was Hawaii, when you had the accident.”

It had been the first time she had brought it up his accident in Hawaii. She had forbidden him from making jokes about it, had barely wanted to talk about any part of it unless it was to help him process it. She hadn’t said anything about her feelings about it, hadn’t divulged what had happened whilst he was unconscious though Frank had revealed that she was distraught, not going into any details. He knew something had happened, had seen in a change in her and their relationship after that. She had been more forthcoming about her feelings, more attentive, initiating spending more time with him; not that he had any complaints, but he could never get her to talk about it. He never thought he would find out, but her bringing this up now, maybe he was.

“You want to talk about that?” He asks, leaning up on his elbow, his hand on her waist still gently caressing. “I know it affected you, babe,” he smiles. “I know something went on in that hospital.”

She remains silent for a moment, offering a quivering smile as her hand strokes his battered face gently.

“It was one of the most terrifying moments in my life, Rome,” she reveals quietly, her eyes filling with tears. “Just seeing you lying on that ramp with blood rushing from your head. I’ll never forget getting to the hospital and going straight to the bathroom and just washing your blood off my hands. It was like they had been dipped in your blood,” she whispers. “I was so afraid I was going to lose you. I couldn’t think of anything else. I’ve never felt so gut wrenched like that, not even when Baird died.”

He’s surprised by that. As much as he thought Baird was a fucking cunt that didn’t deserve her, she loved him and obviously suffered from his death.

He looks up to her, sees her trying to hold in her emotion, her blue eyes surrounded by tears as he pulls her closer to him, kissing her quickly, before pulling her onto his chest, allowing her to bury her head into his neck as he holds her.

“I was on edge in that waiting room. Even got into a fight with Frank because I was so high strung. But all I could think about was how you couldn’t leave me. How I needed you to stay and how I didn’t want to continue my life without you. I told you that you know,” she divulges, looking up to him as he regards her, pushing his hand through her hair with a small smile. “When you woke up asking if I made a big plea to beg you to stay; I did,” she reveals quietly, tears falling down her cheeks as he pushes them away with his thumb, while his own tears begin to form.

“What did you say?” He whispers, feels selfish to ask but so desperately wants to know.

“I told you all the things I still wanted to do with you. How I wanted you to come to my apartment and plan our vacation and go to Rome on my birthday.”

“We’re still doing that by the way,” he tells her adamantly, as he takes in her small smile.

“I know. But I thought at that point that we weren’t going to be able to. I was pleading for you to wake up so we could. Begged for you not to die; not to leave me because I couldn’t imagine a life without you, but you didn’t respond. I thought my heart was breaking,” she chokes out a small sob as her tears continue to flow, his emotion building up as both of his hands move to wipe her tears away as she presses firmer into his side.

“I would never leave you if I had the choice,” he tells her seriously, holding either side of her face. “I want to do everything with you. More than just go on vacation and take you to Rome on your birthday. I want to spend my whole life with you, Gerri. You’re it. You’re fucking it.”

“I know, honey. I know that now. I just don’t know why I’d held back so much until that point.”

“Yeah, there seems to be pattern there that you fall harder when you think I’m about to die,” he laughs a little, trying to inject humour into the situation.

“I know, it’s ridiculous,” she says pushing her tears away as grins at her. “I don’t know why I think like that. I’ve fallen even harder since then though. No near death experiences. Just being with you, just how I feel around you. Everything I said to you yesterday.”

“What when you were giving me a hand job?” He teases again.

“Yes,” she rolls her eyes through her wet eyes exasperated, looking down to his chest as she trails patterns there with her finger. “No one’s made me feel like you do, and I mean that. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I can’t imagine a life without you.”

“Does that mean you’ll marry me?” He asks with a smirk.

“I meant what I said the other night, Rome,” she smiles knowingly. “Not now, but when the time is right, I’ll give you the nod and when you ask, I’ll say yes.”

He grins even wider, moving towards her quickly to kiss her hard as she laughs through it, her hand pressed against his chest.

“You’ve just basically agreed to marry me,” he mumbles against her lips, continuing to offer solid kisses.

“No,” she gasps, smiling through his kisses.

“Yes,” he smiles even wider, pulling back to look at her. “We’re basically engaged.”

“Not officially, honey. We’ve not even went one night living together. Pre-engaged.”

“Pre-engaged,” he whispers against her lips, kissing her again.

“And I still refuse to be a Roy and I’m picking my ring.”

“Pick whatever the fuck you want, call yourself whatever the fuck you want, I don’t care,” he groans, his teeth grazing her lip. “As long as I get to call you my wife at the end of it.”

“I don’t know when it’ll be, Rome,” she warns, offering a peck before pushing him back to lie down as she settles her head on his chest again.

“Just knowing it’s going to happen is enough.”

She lies there quietly, her chest relaxing against him as her high emotions dissipate a little.

“The shit with the accident in Hawaii,” he says quietly. “You think you should talk to someone about it?” He asks, caressing her bare back with his fingers.

“I think it’s pretty normal to be upset about something like that. It’s not affecting me on a daily basis,” she reasons quietly.

“But it does affect you?”

“Sometimes, when I really think about it.”

“Maybe you should speak to someone then. Maybe even Charlotte? Or the PTSD person she keeps trying to offer me?”

“Maybe,” she bites the inside of her mouth. “I’ll keep an eye on it.”

“I’m going to go see my therapist,” he announces, his lips twisting as she looks up to him. “The shit with Shiv and whatever last night. It delved into shit I never thought of and I need to, ya know, figure it out in the old noggin’.”

“I’m glad you want to figure it all out. After this whole weekend I think you really should speak to him. What did you figure out last night?”

“Con said something about how dad had deliberately pit us all against each other and picked on me so he could create this like pecking order. That it was maybe half to freak everyone else out by making an example of me, and the other half was to try and big Ken up to prepare him to take the reins in Waystar,” he reveals.

“Is this theory or fact?” She asks with a horrified expression, leaning her arms across his chest to look at him.

“I don’t know,” he puffs. “Con said it like it was fact. But if that’s fact then it’s pretty fucked up,” he laughs awkwardly.

“Oh honey,” she sighs. “I knew your dad was cruel but to deliberately do it instead of just being absent-minded,” she trails off biting her lip.

“There was this part of me that felt better about it, Gerri,” he reveals, looking down to her, running his hands through her hair as she frowns. “Like, if he did it for that reason then maybe he didn’t do it because I was a fucked up piece of shit or I was the most unloved, but just because I was the youngest son. It was like more strategic to dad than like emotional.”

“I understand that, Rome. That it might be better that it wasn’t personal to you. It doesn’t make it hurt less though,” she curls her lips, stroking across his chest.

“Shiv said this shit as well. She apologised for what she said by the way,” he digresses.

“She should have.”

“Well she did. But she like had this theory that I was maybe the strongest of us all because I was the only one who like went back for more. I was the only one who stood up to him, whereas the rest of them were just underhanded. She might have just been trying to blow smoke up my ass, but I never thought of it like that. I need to figure out if I believe it.”

“I think that’s a good way to think of it, Rome,” she tells him resolutely, nodding. “Who else really did verbally stand up to your dad? I mean sure, you were scared of him, just like we all were. There are only a few occasions that I told him what I really thought of a situation, but most of the time I told him what he wanted to hear as did everyone. But the fact that you would even joke about him to his face was something no one else did. That only you could get away with because of your charm.”

“Apart from when I got a back hander now and then for it,” he notes.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “Apart from then.”

“Well, I’m trying not to overthink it just now. Want to just enjoy this now and finally going public. I’ll make an appointment with my therapist and try and let them fucking figure it out.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” She asks gently. “Would that make it easier?”

“I don’t know,” he bites his lip.

“Well,” she ponders. “Why don’t you get an appointment for when I can make it and if on the day you want me to come with you, I can.”

“Cool,” he grins widely.

“What are you smiling at?” She laughs.

“Just you,” he offers shaking his head, the smile still present.

“Well, don’t. It’s unnerving,” she smirks back.

“How can I look at your cute face and not smile.”

“I’m hardly cute.”

“You’re the fucking cutest,” he groans, leaning forward to peck her lips.

“You’re deluded.”

“You’re a fucking siren.”

“You know of all the things you call me, I think that’s my favourite. Babe is a very very distant second.”

“Should I start addressing you as my siren in work emails?”

“Only if you want me to address you as slime puppy in them.”

“I absolutely want you to address me as slime puppy in emails,” he laughs, moving onto his side, brushing his nose against hers as she chuckles, their bodies pressed up against each other.

“My favourite is honey,” he divulges quietly, pecking her lips. “I know you call your kids honey but when you say it, it’s like I’m home. Or when you call me baby when you’re turned on. But the way you say my name. Rome. The way it draws out. Perfect,” he smiles, kissing her quickly again.

“Rome,” she whispers with a smile.

“Yeah, like that,” he closes his eyes, sighing slowly. “The best.”

They lie there for a moment until a yawn comes over her, he sympathy yawning immediately after her.

“We should get some sleep. It’s a long day tomorrow,” she reasons as he leans in to kiss her, pushing into her mouth as he languidly caresses her tongue.

“Roman,” she warns when she pulls back. “We need to sleep.”

“When you do angry Roman too. That’s favourite number four,” he smiles before pecking again.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she smiles, pulling away from him and getting out of the bed.

“I left you out pyjamas on the sink in there,” he notes, lying back completely naked on the bed.

“You might want to think of getting some yourself,” she smirks over her shoulder, before closing the door slightly.

He gets up quickly, blowing out all the candles, before pulling back the blanket covered in oily shit and throwing it onto the couch where he sees Chuck the Chick sitting.

“Aww little Chuck!” He shouts as he walks towards his drawers to pull out a pair of boxers. “Is Chuck the Chick relegated to the couch now then? No more sleeping in your bed?” he shouts out to her.

“Unless you want relegated to the couch?” She shouts back as he hears the toilet flush and the water running.

He smiles, pulling back the bed covers and getting into the bed, lying back against the pillows.

“Roman!” He hears her shouting. “You can’t be serious with this,” she shouts, though he hears a hint of laughter in her voice.

“What are you talking about?” He asks, chuckling under his breath, completely aware of exactly what she’s talking about.

He hears a little shuffling before she appears in the doorway, leaning her hand on the door frame, giving him her best stare, her blonde hair curling around her makeup-less face, her legs completely exposed as she dons an oversized plain black t-shirt that just reaches the tops of thighs, the huge print of Kylie Minogue staring at him as he chuckles.

“Wow, you look hot,” he smirks, though he tries to hide it.

“Kylie Minogue?” She asks as she walks around the bed towards her side.

“Hey, you don’t know how long I looked for that. Ended up getting it specially made just for you. Only one in the world. Fucking couture,” he rabbles as she rolls her eyes.

“You didn’t even leave out bottoms.”

“What do you need bottoms for?” He flirts as she rolls her eyes again, reaching for the rose on the bed, smelling it with a smile before placing it on the bedside table. She moves for the lamp to turn it off, ensuring her phone is still charging, that her alarm is still on.

“Go to sleep,” she instructs, sitting on the bed. “We’re up at 5am.”

“Okay, remember we were talking about ground rules with living together,” he says into the pitched black room. “A 5am wake up is on my list that needs negotiation. I’m willing to go full proxy battle style. Presentations and all kinds of shit.”

“That’s when I wake up,” she groans, lying down as she faces away from him, whilst he lies on his back. “Are these bed sheets new?” She asks absently, feeling the softness that she only feels within her own bed.

“But I don’t need to blow dry my hair,” he groans, moving up behind her to wrap his arm around her waist, she instinctually threading her hand through his to pull their clasped hands up to her chest.

“Then see it as a snooze alarm. Go back to sleep for half an hour before you set your own alarm and need to get up,” she challenges, looking around to him and kissing his lips quickly before settling into her pillow. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” he lilts, kissing the back of her neck before he settles down behind her to go to sleep himself. “Yes, the bedsheets are new. They’re the ones you like,” he sighs into her back as she smiles sweetly.

It was a perfect new beginning.


	2. The Interview

He had felt buzzed the next morning; hyped for the day ahead.

He couldn’t help it. He had woken up to what felt like the first day of the rest of his life at 5am when her alarm had gone off, no need for a snooze of his own, unable to go back to sleep for that half hour, instead opting to listen to her beginning her day; too wired about the realisation that this was going to be his new norm.

_This would be every single fucking morning._

He simply laid back against the headboard, sighing as he listened to the shower running, then the hair dryer before she had entered the bedroom with her face flushed, her dressing gown haphazardly wrapped around her as she made her way to pick up her makeup bag.

He listened to her absently mutter about how the first thing on their list for this apartment was to get her vanity over here; about how she would need to call Maria because there was no way she was going to stand in the bathroom and do her makeup every morning.

He had simply grinned, following her into the bathroom, cheesing over her shoulder at her reflection as she pulled the various things from the bag before he had kissed her shoulder and taken a shower.

His beaming was still present when he got out, his high energy reverberating off the walls as she had watched his reflection with her eyes narrowed as she applied her eyeliner, a small smile present, though her eyes were challenging this new euphoria each time they had made eye contact.

He felt light and fuzzy, her attempt at eye rolling at his mood simply spurring him on more.

She had pulled him towards the bathroom when he had everything but his suit jacket on, citing how she had messaged the makeup artist that she used for special events who had given her some advice on how to tackle his battered face.

She had tilted his head back, gently dabbing the green concealer under his eyes, a tool usually conserved for the dark circles that years of Waystar fuckery had created under her eyes. He had surprisingly sat silent with a small smile splaying his lips, allowing her to do her work, simply concentrating on her hot breath caressing his face.

“What are you grinning at?” She asked applying the concealer next as a giggle escaped his lips.

“Nothing,” he shrugged nonchalantly with his eyes lightly closed as she continued to dab the concealer, allowing it to bake for a minute as she stepped back, leaning her hip against the counter, simply observing him.

“Mhm,” she offered sceptically as she folded her arms across her middle.

“What?” He scoffed, opening his eyes a little.

“Close your eyes and don’t touch your face at all today,” she directed with a pointed look as his eyes closed immediately at her warning. “You know smiling for no reason could be considered a little unnerving. Like that of a psychopath,” she teased.

“I’m just happy,” he had offered lightly, sitting on the closed pan, moving his head from side to side like a child; he thinks he’d be kicking his legs if they were short enough.

She couldn’t help the small smile that appeared, nor the peck to his mouth that accompanied it as he grinned even wider at the feeling of her against his lips.

She had tried to remind him of his need to wipe the grin off his face, aware that he couldn’t walk into the office with that knowing smirk, though her admonishment seemed to make no difference.

Even her cautions that this rapture would soon fade when he realised that she often got up even earlier than 5am to make phone calls to all the divisions around the globe couldn’t rain on his parade, though she was sure that this excitement would eventually wear off when her alarm woke him at 3.30am on the days it did happen.

He happily received her warnings as she packed her briefcase, as they were introduced to their temporary security team, and continued as they rode into work.

He was to tone down his clear excitability and wasn’t to be inappropriate were the highlights. The threats echoing what he had received in the cinema that time in London, that no one came into work to watch people be all over each other. They were to be professional. She was still his boss, they still had to command control, they still had to convince the board and every Waystar employee that this wasn’t going to affect their output and acting like a couple of teenagers wasn’t going to convince anyone in a Fortune 500.

He was up to the challenge; he’d been controlling himself for months now, but this time was different. This time it was like playing a big fucking game of edging for twelve hours a day before he could take her home and fuck her.

He was happy of the smile and kiss she gave him before they exited the car, her mask on as soon as they hit the morning air. He followed a few steps behind her dutifully as she had marched across the pavement confidently with their security team in tow, her business hat on, the no-nonsense Gerri ready to take on the day.

She was used to being surrounded by security. Logan had had them for years when things were most unstable, and as Logan’s right hand suit she had been there by his side as they had protected him. However, it was hard to adjust to the idea that she specifically was the target; that she was the one they were there to protect now. She was so used to being there by proxy; to waiting for Logan to dismiss or instruct them.

The team had split between the two of them when they had gone into their separate offices, Roman easily controlling his lot by asking them three hundred questions about themselves, though she didn’t take to it so easily. The concept of them watching her all throughout her day as she tried to carry out her work wasn’t exactly welcome, it felt awkward in fact. Though she knew it was encouraged and that they took their jobs seriously, she wasn’t used to feeling so smothered, previously being able to fly under the radar when having private conversations from office to office with whomever she wanted to without detection. She decided to dismiss them until she was ready to move out of the building again; no apparent danger within these walls unless she decided to throttle Roman for any derogatory comments towards her.

****

Walking into the meeting with the heads of departments had been ominous to say the least. However, she was fully prepared to be thoroughly cutthroat, unwilling to accept any conversation on the matter. She had noticed the pursed lips from Cyd, Frank’s raised eyebrow, and Joan’s encouraging smile, giving a small semblance of hope in what she was doing here. Roman had been a little fidgety beside her as she had started the meeting off, greeting everyone and expressing her hope that they had had a relaxing Easter weekend.

He had noticed how she had clasped her hands firmly, licking her lips nervously before she had started the announcement. Her voice however was unwavering when she had announced it, only those with a trained eye would notice her small notes of uneasiness. He couldn’t help the grin that had donned his lips when he had kept his eyes on the reactions of the heads around the table. He had considered Dana’s happy expression, Rays jaw almost hitting the table in shock, Larry’s eyes darting from side to side, whilst Tom had given an uninterested smirk; clearly Shiv had spilled the beans.

She had calmly explained the situation and when it had come about according to their edited timeline. She had disclosed their notification to the board in accordance to the clause and briefed them on the upcoming investigation into it. His turn had come about to explain the precariousness of the situation with it being released to the public in an interview tomorrow and their need for discretion until that point; his stare mainly directed at Ray who he trusted the least of them all not to go and blurt it to anyone he passed on his way back to his office.

Joan had been the first to offer her congratulations, encouraging an echoed sentiment throughout the room, some more enthusiastic than others, Cyd’s the most suggestive of all. He could hear the sincere happiness in his voice for the first time in recent history when he thanked them. He even chanced a glance at Gerri, noting her relief, the ghost of a smile before she had taken charge of the meeting again. She had moved it all swiftly onto the next point on the agenda, in no way allowing anyone to dwell on the news before turning the heat back onto each of them to discuss the updates in their departments along with their budgets; a stealthy tactic if ever he had seen one.

****

He finds himself in the car squeezed between Gerri and Karolina after lunch, a mountain of a security dude in the front seat with the driver, as they were followed by another huge black car full of the rest of their security.

He notes to his left, Karolina on her tablet, scanning through the questions that they were due to be asked in the interview, using a stylus pen to make quick notes here and there; her structured bullet points under each question being edited once more. On his right, however, he can feel the stiffness radiating off of Gerri as she pounds a response to an email agitatedly into her phone.

“So, big interview,” he sighs awkwardly, trying to start a conversation, clasping his hands together loudly, causing Gerri to flinch next to them as he frowns at her jumpiness.

“Yeah. So, I think we should go through some of the points,” Karolina says absently, scrolling quickly to the bottom of her document.

“Points,” Roman repeats, pouting his lips as he nods. “Gaming it out.”

“We’ve already been through the points,” Gerri offers curtly, still typing furiously on her phone, as he looks around to her to take in her expression, surprised when he sees anger.

However, when her eyes flick up to meet his briefly, he sees something else, though he’s not quite sure what.

“No,” Karolina drones, looking around to them apprehensively. “Not the interview answers. We just need to go through some standard interview technique.”

“We’ve done badillions of interviews, Karolina,” Roman laughs. “Same old bullshit. Don’t use a naughty word. Don’t say something disparaging about Gaystar. Don’t offer fellatio. _Or cunnilingus._ Feminism and all that,” he laughs looking around to both of them as he notes two deadpan expressions. “Come on. You’re talking to Hollywood’s most beloved moron. They couldn’t get enough of me on the red carpets.”

“Yeah, I get that, but you guys haven’t had 411 on how to act as a couple,” Karolina ventures delicately. “We have to go through it. Interactions. Body language. Things like that.”

“We need prep for that?” He asks confused, looking around to Gerri, who’s finally sent away the email and turning her attention to them with a raised eyebrow.

“I was married for several years. I know how to act in a couple,” Gerri laughs sarcastically.

“With respect, PR and interviews for couples are very different,” Karolina starts, looking back to her tablet to read out her point, as Roman snorts a little, looking around to Gerri who rolls her eyes, looking out the window. “There’s a lot to consider. Such as both of you being balanced in the time you talk. One person not talking more than the other, so you give off that your relationship is equal.”

“She means you,” Gerri interrupts pointedly, nudging him as he snickers.

“Roman if you talk too much, it would seem that Gerri is nervous and not competent, perhaps unfit to be a CEO,” Karolina tries to explain as Roman grimaces. “Whereas, Gerri if you take the lead then it comes across that you’re domineering and the one in charge of the relationship, making it seem that Roman is essentially… being controlled.”

“I mean,” he grins, looking around to Gerri who rolls her eyes for good measure.

“Shut up and listen,” Gerri admonishes bluntly, though he snickers in response.

“So, just make sure the conversation is equal. You can either do Roman as the joker, Gerri as the eye rolling straight man. Or Gerri, give him a little banter back. Have a bit of fun with it, going back and forth between you,” Karolina advises as they both nod looking towards Karolina’s tablet. “The main objective here is to sell that you’re in a healthy, loving relationship so the repertoire between you has to be fun, courteous, and most importantly genuine.”

“Our relationship is genuine,” Roman defends with a frown, looking to Karolina who sighs, brushing the hair back from her face.

“There’s going to be a lot of doubters,” Karolina tries to deliver delicately. “You both knew that. But the more you can sell that your relationship is legitimate, the less doubters and backlash you’re going to receive.”

Gerri looks out to the window, biting the inside of her mouth, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She can feel her heartbeat increasing, the air struggling to get into her lungs, as she tries to inhale deeply to calm herself down. Roman notices instantly, struggling to see her face, her eyes pressed to the passing buildings. He moves to take her hand, threading their fingers together, noting her warm hand reacting immediately as he feels her grip tighten against his, her eyes still facing outside.

“And that’s another thing,” Karolina hazards, looking down at their hands. “Body language. Intimacy.”

That gets Gerri’s attention as she looks around to Karolina who nods towards their joined hands again for her benefit, Gerri retracting immediately as she fumbles with what to do now, deciding to pick up her phone from her lap just to give her something to do; much to Roman’s dismay.

“No,” Karolina says gently. “Intimacy is a good thing to a point. People want to see that.”

“What?” Gerri breathes as Roman grins widely at her.

“To an extent obviously,” Karolina lolls her head from side to side before looking back down to her tablet to brief them. “No kissing. It always seems awkward and staged when you’re in an interview or in front of paparazzi. The only time you should ever be caught kissing is when it’s candid and you didn’t know someone was watching or taking the photo. That’s just obvious. You’re still trying to come across as the proficient CEO and COO of a Fortune 500 company here.”

“Not even on the cheek?” Roman asks with a smile. “A little peck,” he says trying to tease.

“What reason would you have to kiss me on the cheek?” Gerri asks with her eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t know,” he smiles. “Because I feel like it.”

“No,” Karolina confirms. “No kissing. You can portray your intimacy through other mediums. Holding hands when the other needs comfort or you’re saying something kind about the other person. A light tap on the leg or arm when you’re joking around. Things like that.”

“So, no head locks,” Roman nods, as Gerri shakes her head. “Got it.”

“The best way to go about it is thinking of politicians and how they act with spouses. They’re your thought process here. You want to come across as absolute professionals but also people who are in a happy, caring, _authentic_ relationship in their personal time.”

“So, like, exactly what we are,” Roman snorts.

“What’s the style of the whole thing anyway?” Gerri asks curiously, putting her phone back down on her lap. “There isn’t a gaudy photoshoot and everything like last time, is there?”

“No. I think they’re going for more informal interview with candid photos,” Karolina confirms.

“Unusual for Vanity Fair,” Roman notes, looking forward out of the front windscreen. “I got an Annie Leibovitz photoshoot a few years ago. She was a groovy chick. And then last year I did one of those videos where the questions just got increasingly personal. Was actually fucking funny.”

“Well, they will be recording the whole thing, but what footage will be published is subject to approval, of course. Then it’ll go on their website, on Twitter, on Instagram,” Karolina trails off before Gerri interrupts her.

“A video?” Gerri gulps, the feeling of her throat constricting becoming more apparent.

“You’ve done videos before. You did DC for fuck sake and that was huge,” Roman laughs. “This is a piece of cake in comparison.”

But it wasn’t a piece of cake to Gerri. She would do a deposition in DC any day again over this. She wasn’t used to a public life, wasn’t used to the attention that being in the limelight offered. She’ll never forget how uncomfortable she felt when her photo had come up on the news programme with Weissel, putting her face into the stratosphere. The thought of being so easily identifiable alone had made her cringe inwardly, shift awkwardly in her seat that day, surrounded by her peers who tried not to turn their attention to her as she had heard the cheers of her name in the room next door from the Roy brood.

The prospect of the deposition in DC had been daunting enough, Tom making it no better with his perpetual anxiety, let alone a televised inquisition as she would have to attempt to dart their questions. However, she had been in her own world there; a world she expertly understood and could manoeuvre. She knew every law, every trick, every word she had to spill out of her mouth to successfully pull it off. It was her job to know, to advise, to engage in it in a boardroom; it had just been a new prospect doing it so publicly.

She understood that CEO involved being a public persona and she had taken that in her stride because again she knew what she was talking about. She knew the industry inside out and could head off any questions any moron could possible fire at her, but the delving into her personal life was something that would take a little bit longer to adapt to.

The most uncomfortable she had been thus far was with the Forbes interview and photoshoot even though it had gone well. Talking about herself personally had been a new steppingstone in this journey into becoming a public figure. She had processed it as her life story being factual. She was simply telling people her history of how she had got to current situation; more or less dictating a résumé to the world which was an easy task in itself.

This interview with Roman, however, was the biggest challenge she had faced thus far.

The prospect of having to sit in a room with an interviewer, being recorded, as she talked about her feelings was something that quite frankly made her internally and externally cringe. She had gone through too many years of deliberately publicly muting her personal feelings, any intimacy, her marriage, her personal life; only revealing the expected fundamentals when necessary. It was something that had been engrained in her for over thirty years; even the prospect of sharing a chaste kiss on the subway with Roman was something she had been bashful about. She had only just started being so open with Roman in her feelings a few months ago and now she was expected to openly declare it to the world. She couldn’t imagine what she would think if she were the one scrolling through her social media, coming across the video, seeing a woman in her 60’s publicly declaring her devotion for a man twenty years her junior. She wonders if she would be as judgmental and sceptical as she imagines most others are going to be, mainly the viewers of the very channels she was now in control of; or if her proclivity towards feminism would have made her give a hearty _good for he_ r instead. Hindsight was not her friend in this moment because she was sure the reason she was siding with feminism and anti-ageism is because it was her; because she knows her relationship was genuine, she knows this wasn’t planned, she knows there was no subterfuge in this situation.

She wonders if this whole thing is a mistake. If they should just have allowed it to happen naturally instead of making a public statement. She wonders if she should have just offered confirmation on the situation on the weak statement from the other day and let the narrative become whatever it wanted to. She can’t help but feel like she’s walking into the lion’s den, the ominous sickness churning in her stomach becoming overwhelming, her fight or flight kicking in with no fucking clue which way she was going to go.

“Uhm…,” Gerri chokes out trying to figure out how she’s going to word her backtracking. “Why are we going with Vanity Fair anyway? It’s not really their style is it… a story about a CEO that no one really knows.”

“Don’t be so modest,” Karolina smiles. “Your approval ratings and popularity have been astronomical since the Forbes interview. You’re known pretty widely in a lot of circles now. But mainly, it’s Roman,” she smirks as Roman adjusts his tie smugly.

“This face,” he sighs with a smile. “They just can’t resist it.”

“Roman has always had a pretty high profile since all his bullshit when he was a kid,” Karolina starts as Roman interrupts.

“Hey! No fair!”

“But,” Karolina continues. “He made a lot of big waves in Hollywood when he was there. He interviews well and everyone likes his quirky personality. Not to mention he made an impression with a lot of big A-listers out there, so it’s likely due to him. Then there were always the gossip stories for those years in the noughties until maybe five years ago about who he was dating and who was going to tame him since he fired through a series of girls. An eligible bachelor if you want to call him that. I’m surprised they didn’t offer the cover if I’m honest.”

“Next time,” he winks at Gerri as she feels the bile rising up to her mouth, her face becoming pale as she realises, she’s likely not going to get out of this.

“It’s just, maybe they’re not the right media outlet we should be looking at,” Gerri tries to reason. “We really should have used one of our own so we could really control the narrative. Not to mention, Vanity Fair are pretty progressive and liberal, aren’t they? So, it could result in a backlash from our readers and viewers if we’re seen to be associating with them.”

“What’re you talking about?” Roman asks gently, frowning. “We’re on our way there.”

“Gerri, we’ve signed a contract with them,” Karolina laughs a little awkwardly. “You approved them yourself as the best option because their progressive perspective on the nature of your relationship would draw the most popularity, not to mention drawing a whole new audience.”

“I know,” Gerri clears her throat. “It’s just, maybe there was a certain amount of oversight that we missed in disregarding that.”

Roman can’t help but feel the hurt surging within in him as he listens to her, realising that she’s trying to back out just as they are about to cross the finishing line.

“Gerri, the reality is that if we pull out now, they’re going to run the story anyway,” Karolina reasons. “However, the difference is that they’ll put whatever edge on it that they want and cancelling an interview an hour before it’s about to take place when they’ve moved it up to accommodate our predicament isn’t going to be the best way to get a positive spin on your announcement. The rumours are already circling from the other day, it’s a matter of time until it fully breaks, and someone talks,” Karolina explains skilfully, as Gerri sighs, biting her lip again as she looks out the window. She closes her eyes tightly, taking a deep breath in as the car begins to slow down outside their destination.

Roman’s frown is still evident as he takes Gerri’s hand again, hers squeezing even tighter this time as she concentrates solely on the feeling of his skin against hers.

“Hey,” he says gently, but she doesn’t move. “You okay?”

She exhales slowly through her clenched teeth, her eyes finally open as she plasters a smile on her face, looking around to him, offering a nod.

“Yeah. It’s fine,” she tries to offer confidently.

“We good?” Karolina asks, her hand on the door handle as the security from the car behind them flood around their car.

Roman raises his eyebrows at Gerri, an unspoken reiteration of Karolina’s question. He can see that turmoil in her eyes again, her glasses emphasising the icy blue as the small line forms between her eyebrows as she knits them together; the one that only appears when she’s stressed the fuck out.

“Yeah,” Gerri says offering a small smile as she reaches quickly for the door handle. “Let’s get this over with,” she huffs letting go of his hand and pushing her shoulders back before stepping out of the car.

****

Gerri finds herself in another makeup chair, facing a mirror covered in bulbs as they highlight every little line on her face that she didn’t even know she had until now. Luckily the girl doing her makeup had just finished, away to find the hair stylist to touch up her hair, giving her time to look through her emails for anything that she may have missed; a welcome distraction from the impending rack she was about to be tortured on.

She couldn’t stop her mind from reeling; ruminating how ridiculous she is going to look as she sits next to Roman on the small couch she had seen on the set, trying to convince the population of the world that she is genuinely in love with this young man. She can’t help considering how foolish and weak she’s going to be perceived; how they are going to paint her as a tragic sexless older woman who has fallen at the whim of Roman Roy, the slick talking suave bachelor who was taking advantage of her position as CEO. It doesn’t matter that she knows it’s not true, just the notion that the infallible image she had spent her whole adult life protecting and building up, could be instantaneously corrupted just by being a sappy schoolgirl on video for the world to see was not only distressing but unjust. The knowledge that announcing her happiness could be her demise was just unwarranted, bordering cruel, and yet she knew she had to do it even though she could lose everything for doing so.

The Board still hadn’t announced her as a permanent CEO. They could easily change their minds upon bad press dependent on how scathing it became; on reflection their delay in announcing was probably the usual corporate bullshit that went on behind closed door as they waited for the feedback before making their final decision. She felt out of control, like there was nothing she could do to sway the situation. She would need to find the correct balance between coming across as genuinely loving, but not too immature, not too love struck. She had to be dominant in the relationship to show that she wielded power, but not too much to ensure she didn’t come across as domineering. She would need to show that she could still fulfil the role of CEO, but not dedicated to it so much that her relationship was secondary. The balance had to be just right, and she didn’t know if she could pull it off. The thought of not pulling it off and losing the position she had longed for just as she was just about to hit home was too devastating to even consider. But she knew that if it became a choice; that if it was Roman or Waystar then the choice was simple. But she also knew that she wanted both, and there should be no reason she shouldn’t have it all. She can feel the fury mixing in with her anxiety, her frustration of being judged for something so trivial, at the mercy of the moronic public as her jury and it makes her want to do something drastic. The thought of going on camera today and announce that she doesn’t give one fuck if they approved or not was inviting; simply explaining that they were happy, and she was still going to be the efficient filing cabinet she has always been no matter what. But she knows she can’t and just that makes her even more incensed.

The emails end up not being a distraction at all. Instead her attention is drawn to Roman in his own makeup chair several feet away from her, whispering and giggling with his young makeup artist whom, Gerri is quite certain, is shamelessly flirting with him. She can feel the venom within her reaching its peak. How he can even sit there so smugly comfortable with the prospect of not reaching the right balance in this interview is beyond her. Both of their behaviour in this video was being judged. Both of their jobs could be riding on the next half an hour of their life and there he was shamelessly flirting and joking with a young girl. She knows that Roman was often a flirtatious person but him outwardly doing so in front of her, with a stranger who may not know that, in such a public forum in front of everyone was in her opinion quite frankly a complete lack of loyalty and respect.

“Roman,” she finds herself barking as he looks around to her with innocent eyes, the smile slowly leaving his lips when he sees her expression. She feels bad for him, knows this isn’t his fault but she can’t stop herself. “Don’t you think you should be doing some work? Preparing yourself or something? Looking at emails. We still have a lot to do,” she bites angrily.

“What?” He laughs exasperated, flickering his eyes away from her awkwardly for a moment as Gerri takes a bitter deep breath in at his mocking of her suggestion. “I’m still getting my makeup done. I can’t look at my emails,” he defends airily. “This ugly mug clearly needs more attention than yours,” he tries to laugh off, as his makeup artist giggles along with him, infuriating Gerri even more.

“Well maybe if you weren’t distracting the _girl_ , she would be finished much quicker so we could get this over with and get back to the office sooner,” she challenges, pointing her eyes to the girl also.

He frowns, feeling embarrassed as he looks to the makeup artist, noting her expression was thoroughly scolded as she awkwardly pressed her makeup brush into the compact she was holding silently.

“Hey,” he smiles gently at the makeup artist. “Could you give us a minute?”

The girl nods quietly, bowing her head as she walks away from them.

“Thanks,” he says as he hops off his chair, walking slowly towards Gerri who refuses to look at him, pretending not to notice his approach as she scrolls through an email.

“What’s wrong?” He whispers gently, leaning on the arm of her chair, his mouth close to her ear, his desire to press a kiss to her neck pretty tempting though he doesn’t.

“What’s wrong,” she begins, her voice low and full of bitterness, turning to look at him challengingly as he retracts his head a little, “is that you aren’t taking this seriously. This isn’t a playground. It’s work,” she hisses, her eyes strained, her heart beating rapidly.

“Are you fucking serious?” He asks taken aback, standing up fully now, his eyes narrowing as he regards her. “So, I’m not allowed to fucking joke around while I’m getting makeup caked on?”

“Lower your voice,” she warns, looking around to the room to see if anyone had heard him.

He groans, putting all his weight back onto the arm of her chair again as he hunches over, looking at the floor, trying to figure out what the fuck to do here. He thinks back to how she was in the car, adding that to her mood right now, and he knows this isn’t going to get better, knows that she isn’t going to talk about it here with him either.

“Let’s go,” he orders on an inhale, standing up fully and looking to her expectantly, gesturing for her to get up out of the chair.

“What?” She scoffs quietly with raised eyebrows.

“Let’s go do this somewhere else then,” he confirms his meaning as his own anger rises.

“I’m not going somewhere else to have an argument with you,” she bites back.

“Oh yeah?” He challenges. “You want to do it here?” He asks holding his arms out to the room as people start watching him, Karolina’s eyes bulging. “Cause we can do this right here.”

“For fuck sake,” Gerri groans, getting up out of the seat and storming across the room, holding her hand out to the security to stay put.

“We’ll be right back,” he smiles to Karolina and then the makeup artist across the room as she simply nods in return, everyone else looking to the confused young girl.

****

He finds an accessible toilet in the middle of the corridor, the rooms around it too suspect with potential CCTV, this was the only safe spot he could think of.

He opens the door for her, sardonically gesturing for her to enter first, before following her in and flicking the door locked. He finds her standing with her arms crossed across her middle, her stare angrily pointed in his direction, obviously gearing up for a fight .

He doesn’t know why she’s the one who’s fuming when he’s the one who’s just been humiliated in a room full of strangers.

“What’s the fucking issue?” He starts off, throwing his hands up as she raises an eyebrow, offering a scoff from across the room, her hip pressed against the sink.

“My issue?” She fires back bitterly. “Where the fuck do you get off threatening me in there with blackmail?”

“Threatening you?”

“Yeah,” she accuses breathily. “Forcing me in here or you’ll go fucking King Kong in front of everyone. Don’t try that with me Roman.”

“ME?” he says exasperated, still rooted to the spot. “You’re the one who was going off on me! Where the fuck do you get off?!”

“Roman, don’t try and turn this around on me because you decided to fuck around instead of trying to get focussed,” she bites, the anger within her not dissipating in the slightest.

“Fuck around?” He repeats in disbelief, raising his voice, his head pecking towards her. “I wasn’t fucking around at all. You fucking embarrassed me in there!”

“Embarrassed you?” She challenges with a mocking laugh as he holds his point towards the door.

“Yeah,” he splutters. “Fucking scolding me like I was a school kid who got caught talking to my buddy when I was meant to be doing the assigned work.”

“You were doing more than talking,” she accuses, her eyes narrowing with a nod.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He shouts, his eyes bulging as he tries to figure out the fucking enigma that her mind was.

“If anyone should be embarrassed here, it’s me,” she challenges. “We’re here for an interview about our _relationship_ , Roman, and you decide that’s a good time to start flirting with that girl. How the fuck is that going to come across when we’re trying to convince people this is legitimate.”

“Flirting?!” He shouts, his voice rising several octaves. “I wasn’t fucking flirting!”

“That’s not how it seemed from where I was sitting nor anyone else for that matter,” she mumbles with a pout, looking down at the floor, her foot trailing along the edge of a tile.

“I don’t give a fuck how it looks! I wasn’t flirting!”

“Oh yeah?” She raises her head as her eyes become sceptical again. “Well you should give a fuck how it looks! Little whispers and giggles. Fucking nauseating. Anyone would deduce from that you were flirting and it’s not the image we’re trying to achieve here.”

She can hear the clinical tone in her accusations, the use of it likely frustrating him more than anything. Convincing him that it isn’t due to her hurt feelings nor stress but due to their image was a tactical ploy to keep herself protected, one that she had expertly used on Baird about his trysts for too many years.

“When was I whispering?” He scowls, trying to think of what the fuck she’s talking about. “You mean about the bruises?”

“What?” She fumes exasperated.

“My bruises,” he reaffirms. “I was whispering to tell her that I’d been beaten up and had a fucked up face. Something I clearly didn’t want the whole fucking room to hear. I was telling her not to clean off the existing makeup and that she was going to have to cake it on to mask it more,” he explains.

She can feel the relief washing over her, though her stubbornness won’t let her concede, her need to win this argument vital for her not to be perceived as a certifiable whack job.

“You were giggling like schoolgirls, Roman,” she accuses.

“Oh my god!” He groans, burying his face in his hands before looking back up to her. “I made a fucking joke about being in a fight because I didn’t want to admit to her it was my dad that did it!”

She feels even more asinine now, realises that she had probably picked the whole thing up wrong. However, the weakness that admitting that would reveal the chink in her armour, something she was never going to allow; her tough exterior therefore not crumbling in the slightest.

She simply gives a shrug, exhaling lightly before inverting her lips and looking up to his wild eyes, his ruffled hair.

“You don’t fucking believe me, do you?” He puffs incredulously, spinning on the spot, nowhere to pace or escape to.

“Even if you weren’t flirting with her, she was with you,” she weakly backtracks, her arms still tightly folded, pressing hard into her stomach. His serious tone is the confirmation she needs that she had definitely made presumptions in this circumstance, but she refuses to admit that outright so she would have to spin it. She had her pride if nothing else.

“Even if you did say that,” she begins, “it’s about how it’s perceived to everyone around us. We don’t need rumours circulating from the people in this building that on the day Roman Roy the bachelor of America came to announce his relationship, he was flirting with a younger woman. It’s disrespectful and paints you as an asshole and me as a victim. We’re in a hard-enough situation here without having to make it more challenging.”

“I wasn’t fucking—,” he barks before stopping himself, groaning loudly, and crouching down to the floor with his back pressed against the wall, his hands tugging at his hair. “What the fuck is going on, Gerri?” He asks, looking up her. “You were trying to back out of this in the car as well. What’s the fucking deal?”

She doesn’t expect him to have the initiative to stop being defensive, halting her attempts to maintain control, instead reversing this on her, capsizing her stance, and derailing her argument. Baird never did this. She was going to have to up the ante.

“I wasn’t trying to back out. I was trying to analyse whether this actually was the best platform to reveal this. It’s my job to do that. To make the correct moves and evade car crashes. Someone has to be the one to think of that,” she explains resolutely, unfolding her arms, pressing her hands against the rim of the sink behind her on each side of her hips.

He simply watches her, notices the wavering in her eyes, how the anger spouting from her lips didn’t match the rest of her expression.

“Bullshit,” he spits, calling her out, standing up slowly. “What’s the real deal here? What’s happening?”

She’s astounded that he’s seen through her again. Baird had never exposed her. Is this how it was now? Was she now so transparent? Did she no longer have the ability to hide anything from him? Had they reached that point where he could interpret her so well that attempts to bend the truth were now futile. 

“That’s the real deal,” she lies, pushing off the sink to stand tall, straightening her posture, her hands firm on her hips as she tries to heighten herself to posture over him.

He watches her closely, notices her tactics; sees through her attempts to hide whatever the fuck it is she’s hiding. He wonders if his previous fleeting thought that she was getting cold feet going public with him was true, now that they were actually about to do it. He doesn’t understand though. She had told him that she had been frustrated living in secret, had seemed to be really looking forward to announcing. He can’t comprehend what’s happening, but he knows that whatever it was, they couldn’t go ahead with this. Whether it was because she didn’t want to or not, both of them like this in an interview wasn’t going to convince anyone of anything. She was closed off and he was growing progressively disheartened; an infusion that could only end in catastrophe.

“Fine,” he sighs defeated. “But just know that I know you’re talking shit and you were the one that had us promise never to lie to one another,” he reminds her savagely. “We can just call the whole interview off. It’s bound to be a fucking disaster if this is how it’s going to be anyway. Let them spin whatever fucking story they want. I don’t give a fuck,” he tells her resigned, as he notices her frown, turning quickly to unlock the door, pulling it open.

“Wait,” she calls when he has a footstep over the threshold.

He was right; she had made them promise to be honest with one another, to keep communication open even if it was about her insecurities that she absolutely didn’t want to talk about.

He turns around to look at her with wide vigilant eyes, raised anticipative eyebrows as he enters back into the toilet, noticing her body sagging back against the sink.

“Close the door,” she says quietly, as he follows her direction, locking the door again for good measure.

He stands at a distance, his arms rigidly folded this time, his stance wide as he stares at her tenaciously, waiting for an explanation.

She didn’t want to do this, she didn’t want to admit defeat, admit her shortcomings, admit her vulnerability, admit anything. But here he was, actively watching her, interested in what was wrong, willing her to reveal it, and it’s something she realises she’s never really been on the receiving end of before. Apparently, she’s surprised to discover, this was what being in a genuine, legitimate relationship was.

“It’s not you,” she admits quietly, bringing her hands up to her chest to fiddle with her nails so she doesn’t have to look him in the eye.

“It seems like it might fucking be me, Gerri,” he says irately. “You promised me that if you wanted to end this you would just fucking be honest about it and put a stop to it immediately. That should apply to going public too. Stop keeping me in the dark.”

She looks up to him, her eyes wide and nervous, her heart thudding in her chest as she takes in his twisted lips, his eyes a mixture of anger and uncertainty.

“It’s not you, Rome,” she almost whispers, choking on her words.

He lets out a groan, spinning on the spot again as he looks up to the ceiling, trying to comprehend that she actually is confirming that she is apprehensive about going public.

“So, you want to stay a fucking secret?” He groans, tightening his fists, swinging his arms just to give him something to do. “Great. Fucking great. Then how the fuck are we going to explain you living in my fucking apartment or is that fucked now too?”

“No, I’m not saying that,” she tries to back track softly.

“Then what the fuck are you trying to say?” He shouts, turning around to look at her heatedly. “Do you want this or not?!”

“Of course, I want this!” She shouts back irritated.

“Do you want to go public?” He fires immediately, holding his arms up in the air, his eyes bulging. “Do you want to keep living with me?”

“I do, I just—,” she sighs, looking for the right words, her angst rising. 

“You just fucking what?!”

“I’m just fucking scared!” She shouts as his whole expression changes to complete astonishment; the admission was something he has never heard from her. He looks up into her eyes and he realises that’s what had been in her eyes in the car – outright fear, and he feels like a complete fucking moron for not identifying it earlier.

He listens to her ragged breathing before she groans, watches her putting her head in her hands; this was serious, that he knows, because Gerri didn’t admit anything like this ever.

“You’re scared?” He whispers, moving closer to her. “What are you scared of?”

“Of this,” she barks. “This fucking interview. What will happen if I fuck it up.”

“You’re not going to fuck it up,” he assures her, moving next to her, his hand settling on her shoulder before running down her arm as she looks up to him.

“Roman,” she groans. “You heard Karolina. Be genuinely in love, sell it, but not so love struck so people don’t think you’re a fucking tragic old woman who’s been caught in a younger man’s fucking web of deceit.”

He can’t help but blurt out a laugh.

“Karolina didn’t say that,” he reminds her softly through a smile.

“No, but that’s what they’ll think,” she defends. “If I’m too fucking gooey eyed, then I look like a fucking incompetent who’s been led astray by a younger man’s dick. If I don’t look at least a little in love, then it’s disingenuous. If I don’t talk enough, then I look weak and incapable of doing my job because I’m not conversational. If I talk too much, I look like a domineering tyrant who has you whipped. How the fuck do you win with those rules? How the fuck are you not worried?” She challenges fiercely as he pushes her hair behind her ear, pulls her silently into a hug, her forehead slamming onto his collarbone with a puff.

“Can you, you know, breathe for a fucking second?” He giggles in her ear, wrapping his arms securely around her shoulders.

“It’s not fucking funny, Roman,” she mumbles, her arms wrapping around his waist. “If we get bad feedback they could rule badly on the investigation into our relationship. They could give CEO to someone else. There’s so much riding on this,” she huffs, tightening her grasp around his back as his hand threads through her hair on the back of her head, moving down to massage her neck at the base of her skull.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, moving to kiss above her ear.

She grunts loudly, pulling back to look into his eyes.

“Is that it? It’s going to be okay?” She scoffs.

“I mean, it is,” he shrugs, placing his hands on her shoulders, running them up towards her neck to settle under her ears. “They’re going to give you CEO whether you’re with me or not. They aren’t choosing you based on whether you’re with me; they’re going off all the work you’ve put into that fucking company since nineteen canteen, and how you can take it forward.”

“A huge part of being CEO is the visuals, Rome,” she argues weakly.

“Yeah, but the board already know we’re together. They won’t just fuck it all because you fucking did an interview and were a bit fucking mushy. And no one even said you need to be fucking mushy.”

“I’m just not used to this,” she groans, burying her head into his neck as he wraps his arms back around her shoulders again. “I can’t fucking declare my feelings to the world. It’s not me. It’s cringeworthy. It’s ridiculous and pathetic.”

He laughs a little again, she groaning at the notion that it’s at her.

“Then let me take the lead,” he offers assuredly. “I’ll be the creepy loser who’s head over heels and you can bring me back to earth. Let me crack the jokes and you can do whatever you feel comfortable with. Join in whenever you want.”

“Roman, you can’t come across that way either,” she mumbles with her eyes closed, inhaling his cologne, feeling the warmth of him surrounding her, his fingers tickling her neck.

“Like fuck I can’t. Be realistic. Some couples have someone who’s more open than the other. Some couples have one who takes the lead. So, I’ll take the emotiony ones and you take the Waystar ones. Simple. No one would believe that you were a moron who gave in to some dick, Gerri. No one would think that. Especially not to my puny dick,” he jokes, leaning down to peck her neck as she considers his words.

“I’m just so frustrated that we need to go through all this,” she moans. “Whether I can do my job and who I’m in a relationship with are two different fucking entities. It’s no one’s fucking business.”

“Then let’s say that,” he reasons, pulling back to look in her eyes, pushing her hair out of her face. “That nothing has changed in how we work now we’re together. Private life and personal life separate from each other. You’re allowed to love someone, you know. Being a legal eagle doesn’t mean you have to be a fucking nun!”

“I don’t think we should say that per se,” she smirks. “The private and personal life separation will come up when we discuss how it affects Waystar anyway. I just don’t want to look pathetic. I don’t want my reputation as a _legal eagle,_ as you put it, to be tarnished.”

“Are you kidding? Do you know who you’re dating? Girls will line the streets to comfort each other in their misery when they find out I’m off the market. The only hate mail you’re going to be getting is pure jealousy. If anything, this just raises your street cred. Surges it. Like into the fucking stratosphere.”

“I’m being serious, Rome,” she snickers through her admonishment.

“Gerri,” he sighs, pecking her lips gently before looking into her blue eyes. “No one is going to think anything shitty about you. Your reputation won’t be fucking ruined. They’re going to think you’re a fucking human being with feelings. You don’t need to go and spill your guts out. Just be yourself. Your cute little self,” he jokes, pecking her lips again. “They’ll fucking fall in love with you. I promise. And I’ll take the heat for most of it. I’ll crack the jokes. Get the attention on me. They love me anyway. And even if they don’t go for it. Fuck em’. A wise Molewoman once said _we love each other. Anyone who says that’s fucked up doesn’t understand love and that’s a fact._ ”

She rolls her eyes, laughing a little.

“The way I see it,” he reasons. “We have final control over the footage that goes up anyway, right?” He asks, as she confirms with a nod. “So, we concentrate on what we’re trying to convey here and if we come across badly then we just pick a shitty part of the footage that it’s not so bad,” he shrugs, as she bites her lip considering. “Control the optics. Fuck the system. Next stop world domination. I’m thinking we start with Russia,” he jokes as she offers a small smile, considering his very valid point about the video.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, fixing his tie as she concentrates on it. “For earlier. About the girl.”

“I wasn’t flirting with her,” he repeats adamantly.

“I know,” she murmurs. “She was with you though.”

“I don’t think she was,” he laughs offering a kiss to her bowed head. “But even if she was, she would need to take the old hike because I’m fucking devoted to a certain stone-cold killer bitch anyway. Like completely fucked for anyone else,” he smiles as she looks up to him, staring into his amused brown eyes.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. I didn’t mean to. I was just frustrated at how calm you were and how nerved up I was getting,” she huffs, pressing her forehead against his.

“I’ll take your apology into consideration,” he whispers as she rolls her eyes, pulling her forehead away from his, offering a quirked eyebrow.

“Me conceding and offering two apologies in a row is something you should consider will likely never happen again. It’d take the win,” she challenges as he laughs, tightening his grip on her shoulders.

“I suppose. You’re forgiven then. Just try not to get yourself so fucking nerved up. And remember I’m just used to these situations more than you. Just try not to go so fucking schoolteacher on me next time, yeah? Maybe like fucking tell me instead?”

“I know. My mind is just reeling. It’s so out of my comfort zone.”

“That’s why you’ve got me,” he smiles sweetly as her lips quirk to the side. “And I’m sorry for threatening to go all King Kong back there,” he smirks, as she offers a laugh. “Truce?”

“Truce,” she agrees.

“Seal it with a kiss?” He flirts, moving in to kiss her gently, running his tongue across her lip as she grants access, exploring each other as he pulls her to him tightly, her hands exploring his back and waist. When he pulls back, she is breathless, her lipstick smeared around her mouth.

“Well, at least they’re going to know it’s a genuine relationship,” he gestures to her lips as she frowns, turning in his arms to look in the mirror.

“Jesus Christ,” she groans, reaching for a paper towel to try and salvage it a little so it wasn’t so fucking obvious whilst his lips, move down to her neck.

“Leave it there,” he mumbles into her pulse point. “Let them fucking see it.”

She turns in his arms towards him, moving the paper towel to his lips to wipe away the remnants of her lipstick as he scrunches his face up.

“Why don’t you just let me fuck you right here?” He breathes, his dark eyes staring into hers, pushing his hips into hers, moving to lightly peck her lips as she smirks. “Let them all hear you scream my name. Leave no fucking room for question. Monica Lewinsky your skirt and everything. Then we won’t need to convince anyone of anything,” he leans in pecking her lips again as she responds lightly.

“You seem confident that I would be screaming your name,” she mumbles against his lips.

“I’m not kidding,” he says pulling away.

“I know,” she laughs. “That’s what’s so disconcerting.”

“Can’t help if lil’ Rome wants you every fucking minute of every day.”

“Good god,” she groans, lolling her head back.

“What?” He laughs watching her, as she looks back down to him.

“Behave,” she pecks quickly.

“I can’t,” he smirks. “You’re too fucking enticing.”

“We need to get back. They’ll start to wonder.”

“That’s the point.”

“I’m serious,” she frowns. “We don’t need the rumours.”

“You still want to do this then? Still go public?” He asks gently as his head tilts to the side. “You’re in?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “Like you said, we can control the optics I suppose.”

“Don’t worry,” he smiles. “I’m not going to do a Tom Cruise.”

“I would hope fucking not.”

“You’ll be great. You always are,” he assures.

“I hope so.”

“We continue this,” he pecks her lips to make his point, “later then?”

“We’ll see how well you do,” she smiles as she pushes him away, moves to unlock the door before opening it.

“Siren,” he whispers into her ear as she steps out of the bathroom, throwing a flirtatious smirk over her shoulder before leading the way to the makeup room.

****

They’re sat closely together on the small couch, she ensuring her skirt is fully pulled down past her knees as she crosses her legs over, he fixing his tie, asking the Karolina if he has anything in his teeth as she shakes her head at him.

The interviewer was a pleasant woman in her 40’s, balancing an iPad on the thigh of her crossed legs, a large smile on her face, beautiful teeth, though they are hard to see with the big fuck off flood lights and camera next to her, pointed distractedly in their direction.

The interviewer had had a short impromptu conversation with them, apparently a standard practice according to Roman and Karolina in order for the repertoire between the interviewer and interviewees to become more comfortable. Roman had noted the _corporate flirting with shareholders and important boring_ _old cunts_ version of Gerri come out on display easily. Large interested smiles, convincing fake laughs, asking thoughtful questions in response about the interviewer’s work had been expertly handled. Roman realises that Gerri had for once failed to consider how many years she had been skilfully doing PR bullshit with investors. He tells her so when the interviewer calls a short break before the real deal, something that seems to give her an element of relief.

His hand finds Gerri’s just before they are about to start, the interviewer liaising with some fucking dude he’s never seen before.

“You okay?” He mumbles, his face close to hers, squeezing her fingers.

“Yeah,” she sighs.

“Just give me a signal if you want me to take a question,” he murmurs quietly as she nods. “You take the shitty Waystar ones. They’re boring as fuck anyway.”

She smiles, shaking her head a little as she squeezes his hand, trying to psyche herself up.

“Just like talking to investors, without questions in response of course,” she repeats quietly to herself.

“Top class acting. Oscar worthy,” he jokes. “You’ve been killing those for years so you’ll be fine,” he grins wider, squeezes her hand, earning a smile in return from her before a cough from the interviewer interrupts them, Gerri’s hand dropping his abruptly and clasping her own on top of her thigh immediately. His grin turning to a smirk as he regards the interviewer, leaning back against the couch and putting his arm across the back of it, careful not to touch her shoulder.

“You good to get started?” She asks kindly.

“Sure,” Gerri answers gently.

“Abso…lutely,” he smiles, looking to Gerri as her plastered smile turns to look at him, her eyes widening.

“Okey,” the interviewer smiles. “Three… two… one…,” she pauses as they watch the camera man gesture above his head that they were filming, Gerri’s smile becoming firmer as she tries to look only to the interviewer and ignore the beast of a camera.

“Joining me today is the Interim Chief Executive Officer of media conglomerate Waystar Royco, Gerri Kellman, and Chief Operating Officer, Roman Roy, son of the infamous Logan Roy,” the interviewer begins as Roman finds himself grimacing a little, trying to hide it before his whole face reveals himself, whilst Gerri gives her best effort not to look around to him and check that he’s not just rolled his eyes or worse.

She knows that Logan wouldn’t be brought up, had made it a fixed stipulation that no questions would be asked about him or the interview would be terminated immediately, but it was still a shock to hear his name.

“It’s great to see you again, Roman,” The interviewer smiles. “And meet you Gerri.”

Gerri offers a smile before Roman interjects.

“Where was it we met? I want to say Oscars 2017,” he narrows his eyes with a smile.

“Yeah, I think it was when you showed up with a huge bag of marshmallows, handing them out to celebrities on the red carpet as you walked it,” the interviewer jokes.

“God, I remember that,” Gerri mutters, shaking her head.

“Hey,” he defends. “Meryl Streep was thankful. The poor woman was starving. And if I remember correctly, Laura, you took a few yourself… come on… you know you did,” he points at her with a smirk and his sly little giggle.

“I believe I did,” she laughs as they both do alongside her, Gerri’s tension lightening a little.

“So, how have you both been doing with the turmoil that Waystar has been facing in the past year?” The interviewer begins with the expected airy question.

“It’s been challenging, of course,” Gerri answers first, her voice light though unwavering, happy to answer the safe zone question in this whole interview. “But I think we have been very lucky that the shareholders have put such faith into the direction that we have wanted to take the company in. Of course, as you likely know, when I was made Interim CEO and Chair, we were faced with the possibility of a takeover, in the middle of a proxy war, the shareholders meeting only a week away from casting their vote. So, we were very fortunate that the buyers decided to pull out before that happened or who knows where we would be now,” she laughs, before Roman interjects.

“Of course, we know why they pulled out. It’s no secret that Gerri has always been a very intelligent and conscientious employee of Waystar who has always done nothing but a stellar job in her position as Legal Counsel,” he smirks with pride. “If anyone else had taken the position, I don’t think the buyers would have gone running like they did. Gerri is super popular and valued as a leader among both employees and shareholders so I think it was obvious that they would have voted in her favour to be the new captain of our ship even if it had come to down to it,” Roman smiles, unashamedly going off script to remind the board and anyone else paying attention of the reputation that had preceded her, as Gerri has the good grace to look almost bashful as she modestly scolds him.

“He is definitely overplaying my strengths here,” Gerri jokes, as the interview offers a laugh in return, Roman smirking behind her. “But I think we have had a great team,” Gerri nods, her genuine smile now plastered to her lips. “A great COO, of course,” she adds with a lilt as he grasps his lapels comically and straightens them smugly. “It’s been a difficult year but with the hard work and innovation of our employees and their passion to do the best to bring the best possible entertainment to our customers, we’ve been able to come through it unscathed thus far. It has definitely been a collective effort to bring us to where we are today.”

“And you guys have been doing great this year,” the interviewer moves on. “The acquisition of the new airline. A new streaming platform coming out in the next few months. June, right?”

“June 10th,” he confirms. “And this project is my baby, so I expect you to get an immediate subscription, Laura.”

“You bet I will,” she jokes. “Huge Broadway fan. So, this was your idea, Roman?”

“Absolutely, it was just something I had in the back of my head for a while. I was skewering social media and I saw all these people who were desperate to get recordings of the Broadway and West End musicals and plays and there didn’t seem to be a huge platform for that, so alongside our already existing films and TV shows and my experience in the LA, I took it to Gerri as just a thought and she gave me the reins to go for it. It’s been really great,” Roman explains excitedly as Gerri looks onto him with genuine pride.

“So, you’d say Gerri has been a good boss to you then?” The interviewer asks as Roman grins, Gerri licking her lips in anticipation of his answer.

“I would say so, yeah,” he answers firmly, pushing off the back of the sofa, sitting up straight. “People don’t realise how important it is to have a fair and approachable boss in a workplace, especially one who cares for their employees as well as putting the best interests of Waystar itself at the forefront. It honestly, and I think so many people who work in Waystar with us would agree with me here. It honestly, makes such an unbelievable difference when you have a boss with an open mind who you can go to with potential ideas that you’re not afraid will get immediately shot down without consideration. It’s also a welcome… uhm… element, to have someone who has the scrupulous attention to detail and reason to weigh up whether your idea is genuinely good or completely bogus, or even has potential. Having that work environment when you know that someone will give you feedback on your idea and encourage it to grow into something even more amazing is a welcome factor that makes me happy to go to work every day and makes everyone happier which of course trickles down.”

Gerri smiles purely at his answer, looking around to him with a small smile, her cheeks rosy as a blush forms.

“What? It’s true,” he shrugs, turning his attention back to the interviewer as Gerri follows his example.

“It’s my understanding though,” the interviewer smiles, “that the rumours are true and your work relationship has extended into the realms of a personal relationship now though? Is that right?”

Both of them smile widely, Gerri looking down to her hands before looking at him before he shrugs and gestures for her to speak first if she wants to.

“Yes. That’s right,” Gerri laughs a little. “Our relationship became more personal relatively recently after months of bonding in that close-knit environment for so many months after such tremendous stress. We had a lot of other factors contribute to it too, such as a water-skiing accident with Roman that left him in a precarious situation and the stress of the trial with his father which was harrowing to us both. It ended in a great deal of reliance on each other in a way that is often natural in these settings, but our relationship progressed into something deeper and the rest as they say is history,” she shrugs with a smile.

“This isn’t new for you, Gerri though. You also met your late husband in Waystar in the 80’s, right?” The interview adds in.

“Yes,” she laughs. “I did.”

“She’s making a habit of it apparently,” Roman jokes as Gerri and the interviewer laugh.

“When you work the sometimes eighteen-hour days that I do, there isn’t much opportunity to meet anyone anywhere else on the outside,” Gerri jokes again, tightening her fingers harder in her grasp, hoping to move away from the subject of Baird quickly.

“As is common with most people meeting their partners in workplaces nowadays,” the interviewer interjects.

“Absolutely,” Gerri affirms, rolling her lips into her mouth awkwardly.

“It’s my understanding that this is the first you have revealed anything about your relationship until now though. Is there a reason you kept it so secretive? Or was it a secret? Is it in its infancy or?” The interviewer asks, Roman tapping Gerri’s knee to indicate he would take this question.

“Nah, it wasn’t a secret,” Roman rejects firmly. “What you need to understand is that Gerri and I have known each other for years, donkey’s years, and have always had a great friendship and repertoire, so when it became something more, what usually happens in a new relationship was already there. Trust, respect, understanding each other’s personality. It didn’t even progress into anything until a couple of months ago and even then, we weren’t sure if it was something that we even wanted to delve into with all the stress that was surrounding us at that time. Then when we finally did there was a lot to consider. First of all we have a notification clause in Waystar that demands that we notify the board of our relationship to avoid any shenanigans and then obviously we wanted to tell our families before we told the wider public, as would anyone,” he explains as Gerri nods quietly next to him, chancing a glance to Karolina who gives a thumbs up and nod.

“You mentioned the notification clause in Waystar. Only some companies still have that. For the people who don’t know, how does that work?”

Gerri immediately takes the opportunity to answer another safe question, before Roman piped up.

“Well,” she drones. “When you sign your employment contract you agree to the notification clause which Roman just explained. So, what happens is you meet with the board and inform them of your new relationship into the facts of when you got together and the nature of the relationship and so on, which is what we did when we realised this was serious. Then they decide whether to conduct an investigation to ensure there’s no funny business.”

“By funny business you mean?” The interviewer interjects.

“Dodgy dealings, promotions, bonuses. General fraudulent or untoward behaviour,” Gerri explains, her clasped hands stroking her thigh. “So, they conduct the interview to ensure that you haven’t engaged in any of that unfavourable behaviour, particularly when one of you is a superior to the other which in this case, as I of course am. They make sure you’re not using your position of power to take advantage or look for a leg up,” she laughs a little as Roman snorts next to her. “Then they conduct an investigation where they interview employees around you to see if your relationship is adversely affecting the business. Then they make a decision on whether it’s accepted or not, and procedures are put in place if it is, such as a higher ranked employee taking responsibility for things such as promotions, bonuses and so on. In our case it would be the board who would take the control of that.”

“And if it’s not accepted?” The interviewer pushes.

“Well either the relationship would need to cease and usually the employees separated if there’s no foul play. But, normally the senior member of staff would be forced to quit if one of them didn’t offer to resign,” Gerri offers resolutely, trying to keep the nonchalant smile on her lips as she gives a small resigned shrug.

“Gee, that’s pretty brutal,” the interviewer comments.

“That’s one word for it,” Roman offers, leaning back on the couch again as he concentrates on his hand drawing patterns on his thigh instead of the interview.

“And the interview of your employees has yet to take place?” The interviewer asks.

“Starting this week,” Gerri smiles, her hands firm on her knee now.

“Have you decided if one of you would leave or?” The interviewer prods.

“Well we both want to keep our positions. Both of us are devoted to Waystar and have been our whole lives, so neither of us want to hand in a resignation. But if it came down to it, as the higher-ranking officer, it would be myself on the chopping block,” Gerri explains, trying to sound as clinical as possible, as Roman puffs angrily behind her, his tongue pushing into his cheek.

“So, you have a lot riding on this Gerri, huh?” The interviewer asks.

“Yeah,” she grimaces though her voice is light, lolling her head from side to side. “Though I would be pretty devastated to lose my position, it would be worth it for the happiness it’s brought to my life. While I’m committed whole-heartedly to Waystar, this is also not something I’m willing to lose.”

“So, you would quit?” The interviewer tries to confirm.

Gerri hears Roman huff loudly behind her as the interviewer asks the question.

“I wouldn’t have a choice,” Gerri offers seriously. “Some things are more important.”

“That’s very noble of you,” the interviewer says leaning back in her seat impressed. “Do you think there would be a backlash from within Waystar then?”

“I would hope not,” Gerri looks around to Roman with a smile, looking for some input. “Luckily, Roman was made the COO back in June before I was elected Interim CEO and long before this started so there have been no promotions, nor unwarranted bonuses, nothing like that to speak of,” she laughs.

“Only the ten million in shares you gifted to me but who’s counting that?” Roman jokes as Gerri gasps, hitting Roman on the leg.

“Roman! That’s not funny. People will take that seriously,” she admonishes with a laugh.

“Jesus, I’m kidding!” He laughs, holding his hands up in surrender, as Gerri rolls her eyes with a smirk, the interviewer laughing. “No there has been no foul play at all. The board seemed surprised but relatively accepting of the announcement. We told our team this morning and they were very congratulatory. We have a great bunch of people in there and to be honest I think they will just be pleased to see us happy.”

“That’s a good thing,” The interviewer reasons. “Have you been expecting some backlash from the public? From what you’re both doing today?”

Gerri looks around to Roman, unsure how to start this one off, before he purses his lips, offering to answer this one on their behalf.

“Honestly, Laura?” He sings lightly, leaning forward. “Yeah. Yeah, we are,” he sighs as Gerri bites the inside of her mouth, pouting as she listens to his answer. “And I’m going to be quite frank here. I think it’s absolutely frickin’ nonsensical.”

“Roman,” Gerri warns, looking around to him as she spots Karolina throw her hands up in the air and turn in a circle.

“No, Gerri. I just want to say this,” he tries to abate, knowing where he’s going with this, noting the interviewer’s raised eyebrows as Gerri bites her tongue. “To point out the big fat elephant in the room, Gerri is twenty years older than me,” he rolls his eyes, twinkling his fingers in the air. “And for some reason people feel the need to be very ageist and form an opinion on a relationship based on that alone instead of actually looking at the foundation and inner workings of the happiness the relationship creates. And you know what? It drives me frickin’ nuts, because we have no control over that. We have a bunch of people sitting at home potentially watching this who are going to instantaneously say _she’s how old? And he’s that old? And that’s a huge difference and he must be in it for that and she must be in it for this?_ And like, no. No one knows us. No one knows how our relationship works and why we love each other and why we’re such a good fit because it’s literally no one’s business. It doesn’t affect how we work, does it Gerri?” He asks, gesturing to her.

“No, it doesn’t,” she sighs, resigned to the words already having left his mouth, nothing he was spouting was incorrect though she wouldn’t have done it. “We have always been very adamant about keeping professional and personal life separate.”

“Exactly,” he nods, looking back around to the interviewer. “We know there are going to be people out there who don’t get it and cool but like keep your opinion to yourself man. Like Gerri said, there is a lot riding on this. She could be forced to give a job she is made for just off of the public’s reaction alone and that honestly, is completely uncool. We’re happy and reading what Sandy from Charlottesville thinks about it, isn’t going to make me stop loving her. Like, look at her?” He says holding his hands up to gesture to her as Gerri brings her hands up to cover her face, spreading her fingers across it as she smiles embarrassed before she looks over to him with wide eyes, this whole thing getting way out of hand. “She’s beautiful, smart, funny, and sassy as hell. Who wouldn’t love her?”

“Okay, Rome,” Gerri warns through a smile, holding her hand up to him, placing it on his knee to attempt to silence him before she turns back to the interviewer while he shrugs behind her. “What I think Roman is trying to say is that yeah, we know what people will think but it isn’t true. We are very happy together and don’t feel that we have to justify the personal workings of our relationship to anyone, because, without sounding horrifically cliché here, love is love and it has no rhyme or reason. And that’s what this is, no matter what anyone thinks about it,” she finishes as Roman burrows his hand underneath hers, threading his fingers through hers before grasping it tightly with a smile.

“It seems both of you are very in sync with your views,” the interviewer laughs.

“Some of us louder and more brash in our opinions than others, but yes, we have the same thoughts about it,” Gerri smiles, as Roman rolls his eyes.

“I just don’t want anyone’s opinion to scare her away and make her realise what she’s got herself into,” he laughs lightly, bringing their clasped hands up to his lips to kiss the back of her hand. Gerri looks around slowly, noting how he’s slyly broken the rule of no kissing, kicking herself yet smirking for not realising he would always push the boundaries of what was and was not acceptable. She wonders how he can always get away with it, he the only person who can make it charming, the very thing making him the most unique person she’s ever encountered.

“I know what I’ve gotten myself into,” Gerri says quietly, staring at him as he smirks. “And I’m not scared away.”

“So, you consider yourself to be truly captured after years of playing the field then, Roman?” The interviewer cheekily fishes, as they both look back to her.

“Without a single doubt,” he breathes with a huge grin, Gerri looking around to him, mirroring his smile before turning back to the camera with it plastered on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long to update. Apparently BPD and shit can cause a huge brick wall on writing. So, if this chapter sucks, my sincerest apologies.
> 
> I've given myself the task of going back to my original story in this series 'Exploring' and trying to edit it a bit. Only because I read it and realised what utter trash it was. The story isn't changing, just how it's written. But I'm gradually updating it and will edit the description when I have done each chapter in case you carrreeee. 
> 
> Hope you all are thriving in your lives. Peace out x


	3. Disobedient Little Puppy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning - this whole chapter is 100% pure smut so if that's not your jam, I would skip if I were you.   
> For the rest of you, enjoy!

They discuss the interview in the car journey back to the office, Karolina doing most of the talking about all the interpretations, pitfalls, and possible future moves they can make, whilst Roman shrugs and barely defends his tirade. Gerri remains relatively quiet as she listens to Karolina list the pros and cons, unsure herself on how it would come across without seeing it.

The interviewer gave them a timescale of an hour to get the preliminary footage sent over to them so they could decide if they wanted any of it cut, a long enough time for Gerri to allow her thoughts to run before she could make her decision upon review.

She doesn’t think it went that badly, Roman’s irritation could be interpreted as passion, as well as his directness about the situation could potentially squash a certain amount of backlash on the main judgements they were due to face. However, she can’t help but feel a huge amount of relief, and dare she think it, adoration of his defence of them. His words and praise of her were surprising yet stimulating. He had given them the public the Roman-esque manner that they apparently so appreciated, and she should have expected nothing less herself. If the interview came across badly, then the one thing she did have was the assurance that he was committed to them, devoted to her, and willing to battle for them if the need arose. The thought of that alone stirs arousal in her, the twisting in her stomach present since the moment it had happened, and quite honestly, she couldn’t wait to get him alone.

They all huddle around Karolina’s tablet to watch the footage back, all of them determining that his candour had been more endearing than combative. Gerri is surprised at how easy she looks considering how nervous she had been. Karolina herself had commented on how Gerri had struck the right balance of coming across astute in her description of the clause, humble in her acknowledgement of the team effort in Waystar’s success in the past year, as well as endearing in the affection she displayed towards Roman. It had shocked Gerri the most when she had watched the footage and noticed her small smiles, her coyness when he had admired her, the tapping of his leg in jest, the gentle admonishments when attempting to cease his outburst with a simple hand on his knee. She hadn’t realised that she engaged in all that until it was right there for her to view. She had simply done it without thinking and she supposes that this is perhaps why Karolina had caught onto them so quickly. Roman, of course, had come across as he usually did, all facial expressions and quips – cheeky with a side of charm, exactly what the public adored about him. His kissing of the back of her hand had been the most engaging, sure that it would stir something in the public as much as it was further enticing the knot in her stomach. So, they had decided to go ahead and release the whole thing, nothing in there scathing enough to be misinterpreted; the right balance of professional and yet adoring being given off.

“You’re lucky, you know,” Karolina comments when they are all sitting separately, the footage sent to each of their emails as they ponder over them again independently.

Gerri looks up from her tablet to see Karolina staring at Roman, his eyes glued to his tablet, eventually recognising the silence in the room before looking up to them through his eyelashes.

“What? Me?” He asks, his tone shocked.

“Yes, you,” Karolina smirks as Gerri looks inquisitively between them.

“What did I do?” He asks balancing the tablet on his thigh.

“The kiss,” Karolina narrows her eyes at him, as he smirks again, looking down to his tablet.

“Hardly even a kiss. A peck! A brushing of lips!” He defends, snickering as Gerri’s lips twitch.

“I warned you, Roman,” Karolina says flatly. “You need to watch with things like that. This time it came across as sweet but next time it might not. You don’t want people to start cringing at overfamiliar public displays of affection.”

“I knew what I was doing,” he mumbles, scrolling back to the point of the interview that she had distracted him from.

“Oh, well I may as well up and quit then since you don’t need my expert advice,” Karolina challenges, with a quirked eyebrow as he snorts, Gerri watching as Karolina’s mood becomes more serious.

“Karolina’s right,” Gerri affirms, as Roman looks up to her with a grimace. “It may have come across as cute this time but in the future, we need to follow the advice.”

“I don’t think there was anything wrong with it,” Roman defends, twisting his lips. “They’ll be writing fanfictions about us. Just you wait and see.”

Gerri rolls her eyes as Karolina huffs looking towards her.

“Roman,” Gerri lowers voice, her warning tone at its optimum. “You went way off script as well. We need to listen to Karolina.”

“So what? It played?” He defends with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Gerri challenges, as Karolina watches on. “And you’re lucky I’m so damn adaptable that I could go along with it. There is no point in us spending all of our time preparing if you’re going to start ad libbing your answers. You could have thrown me off and created an almighty shit show for all of us, especially Karolina. So, from now on, stick with the planned answers.”

He frowns again, looking between the two of them, his lip curling up at the side in disgust at the prospect of being boring.

“No one said you can’t add your own flare,” Karolina adds with a smile.

“Within reason,” Gerri warns again.

“But the foundations of the points are carefully thought out so I would appreciate it if you at least used them as your skeleton when doing PR,” Karolina says gently, tilting her head to the side.

“Fine,” he groans, going back to the tablet.

“Okay,” Karolina sighs. “Well I’ve sent off the email with the approval so that gives them ample time to edit it and send it back. I’ll shoot it over to you both as soon as I get it,” she rhymes off, standing as she folds over the cover of her tablet.

“Great,” Gerri smiles as Roman hums.

“I have a four O’clock, so I’ll catch up with you both later. Are you in for a late one?” Karolina asks walking towards the door, her hand settled on its handle.

“Yeah, I think so,” Gerri sighs. “Have some things to catch up on since we were out of commission this afternoon.”

“No problem,” Karolina smiles, before turning towards the door and opening it.

“Oh, and Karolina,” Gerri says quickly, the door being closed firmly again before she speaks. “If you have the time could do a little meandering around to see how the news from the meeting this morning was actually received. I want to make sure we can squash something if it arises,” Gerri smiles kindly.

“Sure. No problem,” Karolina smiles, before exiting the room.

Gerri looks back towards Roman, takes in how he’s slumped on her couch, intently paying attention to every single word that leaves their mouth in the video. He seems so nonchalant about the whole way he had taken such a risk in the interview, disregarding the hard work Karolina had put in and it almost frustrates her, however, the overwhelming ongoing stirring between her legs is her predominant distraction here; and suddenly, she has an idea.

“And what am I going to do with you?” She asks abruptly, as he looks up quickly.

“Me? I don’t care what you both say. It played well,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

“No,” she says firmly, blinking slowly as she uncrosses her legs, leaning closer to him across the coffee table. “What am I going to do about you being a disobedient little puppy?” She growls quietly, her eyes pointed towards him as she watches his eyebrows slowly rising, his eyes blackening.

“What?” He breathes.

“You heard me,” she bites roughly.

“Gerri,” he whispers, looking around the room. “Anyone could hear this.”

She smirks, leaning back on the couch again, her arm resting across the back of it.

“Obviously, you haven’t been reading your emails, have you?” She challenges as his eyebrows knit together in confusion. “They did a sweep on Monday. No more bugs.”

“What?” He whispers, still staring at her.

“You didn’t think I was going to allow people to tap into this room when I didn’t have to, did you?”

“No,” he breathes, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I suppose not.”

The thought that they were really doing this here, about forty people on the other side of the glass panels next to him was even more of a turn on than splurging on his office window looking out onto the city. He never would have thought it of Gerri; not in a million years. 

“So, what am I going to do with you, my disobedient little puppy?” She asks seriously again. “How am I going to teach you to behave?”

He doesn’t think he has the ability to form words right now, doesn’t know what he would say even if he was able to. He instead simply stares at her self-satisfied smirk, his hips rolling on the couch until he was even further slumped.

“I think we should take a look at your bruises,” she changes tactics quickly, standing up abruptly, walking over to her desk.

“Wait, what?” He moans, watching as she bends down at her hips to reach for her purse, her curvaceous derriere on display, her skirt riding up the back of her thigh a little to expose the expanse of her skin on her straightened out leg. He fucking loves her thighs, the hottest part of her in his eyes and she fucking knows it as she teases him with a peek at them.

“The makeup on your face,” she affirms, standing up and pushing the hair away from her cheek, rummaging in her purse for the makeup. “Go in my bathroom. I’ll be there in a second.”

His eyes dart from her to the bathroom, unsure if this was what he thought it was. She had sounded so erotic just a minute ago, like he was about to get a valuable fucking lesson from schoolteacher Gerri, and now here she was like fucking Miss Honey, with a sunny lilt, ready to take care of him and reapply the makeup to his battered face. He can’t decide if she was using the bathroom for a quick rendezvous or was literally just using it to hide his bashed face as she fixed it. But he wasn’t going to find out sitting fucking here.

He gets up quickly, makes his way to her bathroom, looks over his shoulder at her to see she isn’t paying any attention to him at all. As soon as he is beyond the threshold, he moves his hand down to press against his semi through his pants, his hips automatically gyrating into them as he considers what might be about to come.

“Okay,” she sighs walking into the bathroom with a select few pieces of makeup. “Let’s have a look,” she smiles gently at him as he frowns a little.

“Uhm… okay,” he mumbles, leaning back against the sink as she stands close to him, setting the makeup on the edge of the sink behind him.

She trails her hand across his face, the bruises barely showing through, the truth of the matter that the bruises can’t be seen at all through all the makeup that was caked on but this being a part of her master plan. He can feel her warm breath on his face again, her breathing louder than it was this morning. He wonders if that’s just his perception of his anticipation of having the heat of her closer to him or if she was just as loud when she was applying it earlier. Regardless, he feels the urge to push his hips further into her to get some delicious friction against his growing hard on. He finds his hands coming up to settle on her hips, surprised when she reacts immediately.

“Hands on the sink,” she barks quickly, stone faced, his hands instantly reaching the sink on either side of his hips as she continues smoothing over the existing makeup across his cheekbone.

She reaches behind him, momentarily pushing her thigh into the hard member between his legs, the need to control the small smirk that comes to her lips when she realises this is working undeniable. She picks up the concealer, squeezing a small circle onto her index finger before she releases the pressure back off of him.

“You really took a big risk today,” she deadpans, dabbing spots of the concealer in a curved line under his eyebrow around the bone and under his eye. “You really could have caused a huge mishap, you know. Not only for us but for Karolina too,” she expresses seriously as she continues to caress the concealer into his face.

He moves to open his mouth to protest but she gets there first.

“Don’t speak,” she instructs authoritatively with a pointed stare. “I’m speaking now.”

He takes a huge gulp, closing his eyes momentarily before opening them to look at her weakly.

“You caught me off guard,” she offers lightly. “All those things you said about me,” she reveals as he raises an eyebrow. “You can be really sweet sometimes; do you know that?”

He doesn’t answer, knows he isn’t allowed to; doesn’t even offer a nod in recognition this time. He can barely hear her over the sound of his own breathing, his vision stuck on her blue eyes as they concentrate on her gentle caresses under his eyebrow. 

“The way you raved about me as a CEO,” she comments absentmindedly, still not looking anywhere but where her fingers are trailing. “It was very touching, Rome. You really didn’t have to do that.”

She finally looks to his eyes briefly as he offers a small smile, trying to communicate that it was true, that it wasn’t a ploy of any kind.

“Even the way you defended us,” she whispers, pulls her finger back, rubbing the remnants lightly against her thumb. “You were like a lovesick little puppy,” she smiles, shifting her hands to rest on his chest, moving her lips to his neck as his eyes flutter closed, releasing a huge breath that swooshes against her neck, trying to keep himself under control.

“Beautiful,” she kisses his neck, “smart,” she repeats his words from earlier, “funny,” she mumbles against his pulse point, “sassy,” she says as she continues open mouthed kisses along his neck as she hears his breath continuously hitch at each peck. “I could have taken you right there,” she breathes next to his ear. “And how much you took care of me when I was uncomfortable,” she mumbles against his ear, pushing her chest into his. “How you calmed me down in the bathroom and let me take all the Waystar questions. How you bolstered me,” she whispers, pulling back to look at him until her nose was almost brushing his.

“I’ve been worked up ever since,” she breathes seductively, his eyes closing, sighing as he opens them to look at her pleadingly. “Wanted to take you right here when we got back,” she admits quietly, running her hands down his chest until they were tucked slightly into his pants, her fingers tightening on his belt.

“Yes,” he whispers as his eyes become hooded with arousal.

“But then you showed zero remorse for the mischievousness in kissing my hand, for your waywardness from the script,” she hardens her voice as her hands run back up his chest, pushing up over his shoulders. “Poor Karolina put all that hard work into planning for this and you had no understanding of that, of how it could have gone so array,” she frowns. “You showed no respect for me and how it could have thrown me off and made me even more uncomfortable. You showed no intention to change your undisciplined, erratic ways, no matter how well it played this time,” she tells him resolutely, running her hand around to the back of his neck, pressing closer to him as he moans heavily.

“I think you need to be taught a lesson,” she breathes an inch away from his lips, her fingers gently tickling below his hairline as he feels the electricity it’s creating run down his spine. “A lesson of obedience,” she growls out, her tone low as she brings up her other hand to gently caress the concealer around his eye one last time.

“Do you think you can be good?” She asks with a quirked eyebrow.

He merely nods slowly, pushes his hips up into her.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she warns, moving her hips away from him as he moans, the frown on his face evident. “You did well in the interview,” she praises. “Very well. Only through your cockiness being so charming. But your mischievousness could have cost us,” she explains quietly, dabbing the final part of his eye before pulling her hand away. “So, if you want me to keep my promise of continuing this,” she smirks, pecking his lips with the ghost of a kiss, “later, then you’re going to have to be very very well-behaved for the rest of the day.”

“Gerri,” he groans pleadingly.

“Uh, what did I say?” She challenges with a quirked eyebrow as he growls again, bowing his head in desperation, before looking back up to her in silence.

“Do you think you can do that?” She whispers, moving closer to him again, her mouth an inch away from his as his eyes dart down to watch her gently lick them, succulently wetting her lips to entice him. “Do you think you can do as your told?”

He nods quickly again, his eyes never leaving her lips, desperate to run his own tongue across them as if he had completely forgotten how they felt.

“Then here’s your task. You go to your office and get all your work done, so we aren’t here until all hours,” she dictates as he nods profusely again. “There will be no touching me until I tell you that you can,” she rhymes off as she watches him groan and squeeze his eyes closed, nodding through it. “You can only discuss work with me until I say so. No flirting. No suggestive comments,” she stipulates as his eyes snap open, his frown evident. “That’s the rules. No bending them. No looking for the way around them,” she specifies firmly, the idea of this game surging her own arousal. “Do you have any questions?” She smirks as he pants before her, trying to get his breathing under control.

“When does this go on until?” He asks, his voice wavering.

“Until I think you’ve learned your lesson,” she smiles, running her hand from his neck down his chest, as he nods instantaneously.

“Do you want a safe word?” She smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“How about Nan Pierce?” He jokes.

“If that’s what you want,” she shrugs, trying to hold in a scoff. “You do this,” she breathes, her own voice hitching as her hand wanders south, grazing his erection through his pants, “and I’ll make it worth your while,” she whispers, closer to his lips.

“Fuck, Gerri,” he groans, pressing his forehead against hers with his eyes closed as she strokes his length gently, feeling it twitch through his pants.

“Do you agree to the terms?” She asks, pulling back from his forehead.

“Fuck yes,” he breathes, his eyes rolling back into his head as he feels her fingers against him.

“Good little pup,” she smiles, leaning in to give a gentle peck that he tries to push back into harder, before she pulls back from him immediately. “Now get going to do your work,” she orders. “Chop chop.”

He groans, hanging his head as he releases the huge breath he had been holding in before looking up to her wildly.

“You’re a real fucking siren, do you know that? You’ve never been so fucking hot,” he groans, pushing off the sink.

She quirks an eyebrow, challengingly.

“No flirting,” she reminds him as she moves to pick up the makeup, hearing him walk towards the door. “And Roman,” she growls, as he stops at the threshold, pressing against the doorframe. “No relieving yourself either,” she adds, gesturing down to his groin.

“Fucking temptress,” he grunts, pressing his forehead against the doorframe.

“That’s the rules,” she smiles.

“Fine,” he whines, before pushing off the doorframe and walking as quick as he can with the problem between his legs out of her office.

She can’t help the small laugh to herself, the shiver than runs through her body in excitement at the game she’s just created. It was going to be a long few hours.

****

“Can just you get it together, dude?” He says out loud, down to his crotch for what must have been the fourteenth time. It had been three hours and it had been yoyoing from semi to hard the whole time. Much to his surprise it could be anything that could bring it back to life. Thinking of what was going to happen later, thinking of whether it would be here or at home, thinking of her growling voice as she set out her rules, seeing her ignoring him when he looked through the glass, seeing her small knowing smirk when he caught her eye. It was anything at this point.

He has to admit, he’s unbelievably fucking stimulated by this game. They had never done anything like this since they had got together and he can feel the arousal moving from his groin into his veins, into his pulse; it’s the most intensely turned on he thinks he’s ever been in his whole fucking life. Gerri as his Dom was always a sexual fantasy that was hot as fuck, but without the insults, with the knowledge that there was love there, with the awareness that this was just a big game of edging until he got to fuck her was orgasmic in itself. He just never thought she would be into it after refusing to insult him anymore when he felt like shit. But this Gerri, ordering him around, being an erotic fucking seductress, sex as the reward was top fucking tier.

She had been watching him throughout the past few hours, smirking as she seen his conscientiousness to get the work done that he was supposed to. The array of emails coming into her inbox with the updates of everything he had achieved had been the proof and she wonders if she should be doing this more often. She can’t help but notice when he’s watching her, going between ignoring him to continue this little game she had entangled them in, and giving him the little bit of flirtatious recognition he needed to spur him on further.

It’s just after 7.30pm when she decides to call it a day, packing her things up, he not even noticing as he types vigorously on his keyboard.

She dons his office threshold, a light knock on the glass door, his animalistic eyes finding her immediately.

“I was thinking we could call it a day?” She offers lightly. “Unless you still have some things you have to do.”

He jumps immediately.

“No, no, no,” he protests. “I’m done here. Just need to—,” he trails off, saving a draft email, shutting down a document as she smirks at his enthusiasm. “Ready whenever,” he says quickly, standing up.

“Did you make the appointment with your therapist?” She asks lightly.

“What?” He breathes, trying to think as he regards her standing so unflappable, seeming as though this whole game isn’t bothering her at all. “Oh, right, yeah. Uhm… Friday. Made it at seven. Thought we would probably be done by then.”

“Perfect,” she smiles gently. “I’ll just go get my bags.”

“What? Yeah. Cool. Uhm… great,” he fumbles, bending to pick up his briefcase, dropping it onto the floor before groaning and picking it up again as she giggles under her breath, walking back to her office.

****

Everything from then on seems so charged.

The elevator ride down to the ground floor goes on forever in complete silence as she scrolls on her phone, he simply staring at the numbers as they decrease at snail pace.

Their security team usher them out to the car, a large space in between them in the back seat; the silence between them deafening as he tries to think of something to say. He tries to think of what he is allowed to talk about, tries to think of something work related that he hasn’t already emailed her about, until she breaks the silence.

“Maria phoned earlier. She said she ordered some groceries. She usually prepares something to heat up but since she was so caught up with everything else today, I told her we would order in,” she says absently. “Maybe you can find something for us, so it comes sooner rather than later?”

“Uhm…,” he offers, scratching the back of his head, looking towards the driver and the security dude. “Am I allowed to talk about something other than work now?” He whispers conspiratorially.

Her lips twitch as she tries not to smile.

“Yes, Roman,” she deadpans. “Just not the other things we discussed,” she says quirking her eyebrow.

“Okay,” he exhales slowly with relief. “Then what were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. Whatever you think,” she says absently, looking down to her watch.

“Japanese?” He throws into the mix, pulling his phone out.

“Fine with me,” she shrugs. “Get the sushi I like too.”

“Of course.”

“See if you can get those things we had in that restaurant in Japan I liked.”

“Gyozas?” He quirks an eyebrow, questioningly.

“I know what a gyoza is,” she frowns. “No, the octopus ball things.”

“Takoyaki,” he confirms, already in the menu of her favourite Japanese restaurant.

“That’s the one,” she smiles. “Get that.”

“I’ll just get all the usual shit,” he shrugs, adding multiple dishes to the basket.

She lifts her hand out to settle on his leg, stroking up and down lightly as he immediately reacts, looking up to her wildly as she absently looks out the window.

So, the game was still on, he determines.

****

“How come you get to touch me, and I don’t get to touch you?” He asks in the elevator as she rummages through her purse for the keys.

“Because it’s my game and my rules,” she smiles, as she pulls the keys out.

“I’m starting to think this game is a bunch of bullshit,” he grimaces. “Maybe I should just fuck the whole thing up,” he challenges, moving closer to her as she remains completely still, her back pressed up against the wall of the elevator. “Maybe a bit of mischievous is exactly what you want. Maybe you want me to push my hand up under your skirt right now and fuck you with my fingers,” he whispers, a breath away from kissing her neck as he pushes against her.

“What did I say about touching me?” She barks out angrily as he pulls back immediately. “You’ve obviously not learned your lesson at all little pup,” she tuts. “It seems you’ll need a little longer to think things through.”

He huffs loudly, pressing into the elevator wall next to her.

“Gerri,” he whines.

“I warned you,” she says lightly. “If you’re not good, then you’re not going to get a treat.”

“A puppy treat?” He smirks, his shoulder brushing hers as he looks around to her.

“A special puppy treat,” she whispers conspiratorially, when the elevator dings open on their floor, as she immediately leads the way out whilst he patters dotingly behind her.

“I’ll be good,” he shouts over her shoulder as she begins to unlock the door. “I swear. I can be good,” he repeats as she swings the door open, plonking her bags down on the couch by the door. She turns around to him, closing the door over his shoulder.

“No flirting and no touching. You do as you are told. That’s the rules,” she whispers near his mouth. “Go get yourself together and set the kitchen table for dinner. I want white wine tonight. I’m going to see what Maria has done with the closet.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

****

It’s the most erotic dinner he’s ever had; he didn’t even know you could have an erotic dinner.

She’s sitting at the head of the table as he sits warmly next to her, observing as she swirls the white wine around her mouth slowly before swallowing, watching as she puts every item of food into her mouth, taking in her groans of pleasure as she enjoyed each bite. He’s followed every one of her movements; watched her intently as she raved about the Takoyaki, picking one up with her chopsticks and putting it directly into his mouth as she moaned at the taste, he sharing the gratification alongside her. Every one of her lewd noises had stirred him even more. He was contented with just throwing the whole thing away to get down to business, but she had other ideas; drawing the whole thing out as long as possible, unbuttoning her shirt revealing a smidgen of her ample chest as she complained about the temperature of the house, caressing his arm every now and then as she shared her ecstasy at the deliciousness of the taste. She was trying to drive him crazy, that he knew, but it was working.

When they were nearing the end of their meal, only a few choice leftovers remaining, he waited for her move, trying to be patient as she dallied in moving this whole thing along.

“We should definitely have this more often. It’s relatively healthy, isn’t it?” She asks, moving her napkin up to her lips to dab there before settling it on the table.

“Yeah,” he breathed distractedly. “It’s pretty good.”

“Are you sure you’re done?” She asks menacingly with a raised eyebrow, a small smile splaying her lips.

“Uhm… yeah,” he nods. “All full up.”

She smiles, picking up a piece of Maki, lifting it up before her to consider it.

“You didn’t even try any of these. The salmon is so fresh,” she smiles, moving it closer to his lips. “Try a bit.”

He sighs, offers a small smile as he nods. He figures that if he does whatever she wants, he’ll be a step closer to being buried inside of her, so he’ll eat whatever the fuck she wants. Obedience was the goal here to reach the endgame.

When he opens his mouth, she pushes the Maki beyond his lips, slipping her finger inside his mouth as her breath hitches, his tongue instantly rolling over the tip of her finger, sucking it gently as she pulls it out slowly.

“Good?” She breathes as he chews it slowly.

“Stunning,” he gives, his pupils dilating.

“You’ve been very good since I gave you your challenge,” she praises, standing up slowly as she picks up their plates, moving towards the sink to place them there. “Apart from your small defiance in the elevator,” she notes as he turns around in his seat to watch her. “I think you deserve a little treat after all,” she smiles, walking back towards him, pushing her hip into his shoulder as she towers above him. “Do you think you’ve learned your lesson?” She asks, pushing her hand into his hair and pushing it back.

“Yes,” he breathes quietly.

“Do you think you’ll be more considerate now?”

“Yes,” he whispers again, closing his eyes.

“Good pup,” she smiles. “Then how about you get that little ass of yours into the bedroom and we’ll see just how obedient you can be.”

A huge grin dons his lips as he gets up abruptly, sprinting to the bedroom as she chuckles under her breath, slowly following him in. She can hear the run and jump he’s made onto the bed as well as his giggling as he bounces up and down upon impact.

She walks in casually, noting the presence of her vanity as he lays on his back like a starfish on the bed, excitedly watching her. Her face is still, slowly walking towards the vanity, unclasping her necklace behind her neck and kicking her shoes off underneath the vanity. He is panting on the bed in anticipation as she starts taking of her bracelet next with her back to him, patiently taking her time.

He frowns at her speed, decides to get a head start by taking his shoes off and throwing them across the room with a thud before working on his socks.

“Did I say you could take them off?” She asks coolly with a raised eyebrow, looking over her shoulder.

“Uhm… no?” He says baring his teeth in a mocking grin, his nose wrinkled, as he throws his second sock across the room.

“Hm,” is all she offers as she faces him, lifting her skirt and taking hold of the top of her pantyhose and underwear, swooshing them down her legs in one swift motion, slowly dragging them off her feet, before picking them up and sitting them on her vanity chair.

He watches every movement, with raised eyebrows, his chest heaving in anticipation.

She finally turns around, moving towards him languidly as his eyes meet hers, his grin widening as her challenging eyebrows rise even further.

“So, you think you can do as your told?” She asks, stopping just short of him, her hands settled on her hips.

He nods excitedly, leaning back on his hands as he looks up to her.

She sighs deeply, looking him up and down, can feel her own desire rising.

“All right,” she shrugs resigned, as she begins to unbutton her shirt gradually, taking her time with every button as he quietly watches the skin of her stomach become progressively bared to him.

“No talking,” she directs. “No touching,” she continues as she pulls open her shirt, revealing the white lace surrounding her chest, her skin peeking through to further entice him. “Unless I tell you to.”

She watches his nod, his eyes glued to her chest as she takes a step towards him.

“Hands by your sides. Palms flat on the bed,” she commands abruptly when she sees them moving towards her hips. His legs widen as she stands in between them, the heat of her chest close to his face as she places her hands gently on his shoulders, running them across the cool fabric of his shirt.

“Shuffle back,” she orders gently, as he immediately bounces back a few times on the bed. “Close your legs and lie down,” she commands again, as he does so quickly, straining his head up to see her, his arms lying wide on the bed with his palms still plastered to the surface. She smirks a little as she kneels onto the mattress, crawling above him to straddle his thighs, sitting down hard, ensuring to settle nowhere near the area she knows he needs touched the most.

“What am I going to do with you?” She ponders out loud, leaning forward to run her hands from his stomach up to his pecks and then down his arms until she grasps his wrists. “Now that I have you lying here completely at my disposal,” she begins before lifting his wrists and pushing them above his head against the mattress, her eyes ordering for them to stay there for the foreseeable as she sits back up.

His breathing becomes more ragged, trying to stop his whole torso from rolling underneath her touch, the idea of being completely at her mercy too much of a fucking turn on.

“Should I just leave you here to suffer? Go to bed and get a good night’s sleep for once,” she thinks as she returns her hands to his pecks, running down to his stomach.

He shakes his head abruptly, his eyebrows knitting together.

“No?” She asks lightly. “Maybe I should just take what I need from you and be done?”

His eyes widen as he shakes his head even more vigorously this time in protest as she offers a scoff. She leans down, splaying her hands on the bed on either side of his shoulders, hovering over him as her lips come close to his, her hair tickling his face, her perfume surrounding his senses, but most importantly, her stomach applying pressure to his groin.

“I suppose you have been good,” she whispers, pecking his lips as he pushes them harder to hers. She pulls back slightly as his head tries to follow her, her laugh evident as she breaks the connection. “You’re a needy little puppy, aren’t you?” She asks as he nods slowly. “Devoted too? Or are you just an impatient little mutt who wants to take his pleasure and go?” She challenges, as his eyes grow worried, his head shaking in protest.

“Mm,” she hums pretending to consider the truth of his answer, sitting up straight again as she starts to undo the buttons of his shirt. “So, you want to please me?” She sing songs as her hands delicately push open his shirt with each button she undoes. He nods again, his exhales rhythmic with each nod, as she reaches the buttons that delve under his pants, pulling his shirt out roughly to undo them, pushing his shirt fully open.

“Tell me,” she growls, pushing her hands up the bare skin of his torso as she leans back over him, “if you were me. What do you think I should get you to do?” She asks, placing a kiss on his midriff.

She’d never done this before, with anyone; and with him lying under her, giving himself fully to her, allowing her all the control, his trust absolute, she feels her temperature rising. She wants to remind him that this is a game, without breaking the spell. She needs him to know that this isn’t compulsory and that he can say no to anything, her seeking his ideas the only way she can put that across. This wasn’t the phone calls where she berated them, this was both of them seeking pleasure with her taking control, him giving complete consent, and she needs to know he knows that.

When there is no answer, she ceases her kisses and looks up to him, noting the panic in his eyes.

“You can answer this question only,” she rolls her eyes as she returns to concentrate on her trail of kisses up towards his pecks.

“I don’t know,” he breathes. “Eat you out,” he growls, as his eyes roll closed at the feeling of her stomach pressed against his dick, her tongue darting out to lick against his chest.

“Hmm, there’s a thought,” she mumbles against his chest before moving up to his neck painfully slow until she’s scraping her teeth across his pulse point. “Do you want to eat me out, Roman?” She breaths next to his ear as he groans loudly, his lips bucking up on their own volition.

“Yes,” he whispers next to her ear with his eyes tightly closed.

“Is that the truth?” She pushes, “or are you just saying that, so I give you what you want?”

“I want to lick every fucking inch of you,” he growls out.

She sits up slowly again with a smirk, her skirt riding up even higher to sit around her hips.

“Maybe. Soon,” she quirks an eyebrow as she pushes her shirt off her back, placing it gently on the bed next to them. She looks down to him pouting, stretching above her head as he watches her take a deep breath in and huff it out slowly whilst she thinks.

She smiles lightly, crooking her finger at him and gesturing for him to sit up before her, which he follows immediately, his deep breaths splaying over her chest. She finally shuffles closer, hovering above his crotch as she lifts his chin up to look at her.

“Hands behind your back,” she whispers across his lips as he puts them on the bed behind himself, putting all his weight on them.

It’s then she pushes against his lips, invading his mouth in what can only be called an absolutely pornographic kiss. Her tongue wars with his as he finally puts up a fight, glad to finally have some semblance of control over something as she hovers above him, his hips jerking every so often as he begs for her to sit on him. They don’t last long as they both come up for breath, his lips instantaneously kissing and biting down her neck as she pants above him, her hands tight around his neck as she grins and gasps at his attentions. She feels his trail of fervour moving strongly down to the swell of her breast spilling over the lace of her cup. His kissing there is animalistic as she reaches behind her quickly to unclasp her bra, pushing if off quickly as she can to allow him to properly explore before she pushes his head harder into her breast, his mouth encasing her nipple as he licks, sucks, bites, and practically maims with his vigour. She’s astounded to find that the mixture of pleasure and pain completely takes over her, her head lolling back, her chest pushing harder into his mouth as he switches to her unattended breast. She’s even more astounded when she opens her eyes to see that his hands are still firmly on the bed behind him, a smile coming to her lips at his attentiveness of her instructions, reminding her of this game, her mind lost in the lust of the moment for a minute there.

She pulls his head up to look at her again as she offers another passionate kiss, her hands pushing the shirt off his back, his hands only leaving the bed to allow her to snatch it off before she throws it behind her, her lips never leaving his. When she has the damned thing off, she begins pushing his chest down away from her, breaking the connection of their swollen lips, so he falls back onto the bed. Her hips push lower again to sit on his thighs as she moves to his belt buckle, unclasping it as well as undoing his pants fastening whilst she breathes heavily above him. His hips easily rise up so she can push his pants and underwear down his thighs, trying to retrieve them behind her as he pushes them down his legs briskly with his feet, kicking them off the bed.

He looks up to her, her lipstick smeared over her swollen lips, her pupils blown, her glasses slightly askew, as her bare chest heaves whilst she considers what to do with him, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so fucking hot in his entire life.

She looks down to him, his eyes wild, his hair untamed as he pants from his arousal. She sees he’s more than ready for her as his dick stands hard against his lower abdomen, his taut torso rolling with the anticipation any kind of release.

She offers a wide grin, crawling back up his thighs as she finally sits on his length, his head instantly falling back with a _yes_ slipping in a whisper from his lips, his arms wide on either side of the bed as he pushes them into the mattress. She tries to control her breathing as she feels his hips immediately gyrate up, his shaft slickly grinding through her folds, the friction deliciously taunting her swollen clit as she feels her own head roll to the side. Her hips move in synchronisation with his as they build up a slow rhythm lasting a few minutes, only their progressively ragged breathing filling the room.

“I won’t last,” he whispers, as she opens her eyes to see him pleadingly looking at her, taking the opportunity to gain back control as she abruptly lifts off his crotch, hovering above him.

“What did I tell you about speaking?” She tries to warn as her voice wavers.

He lets out a sad groan as she lifts her knee from the bed, looking as if she’s about to call the whole thing off, causing him to grimace. However, she places her knee in between his thighs.

“Spread your legs,” she instructs, her voice back to a semblance of normality. He can feel every vein in his body pulsating, his eyes become hooded with arousal, his dick twitch at just those words as he does as he’s told, lying completely at her fingertips.

She spreads her own knees apart, sitting back on her feet as she watches him, fixing her glasses as she tries to let him calm down.

“Now,” she warns intensely. “You’ve not to orgasm. In no way, shape, or form should you release. Got it?”

“Gerri, I can’t control if–,” he whines, looking up to her.

“Roman!” She shouts frustrated. “What did I say about talking?”

He moans, the back of his head hitting the mattress as he looks up to the ceiling, closing his eyes to try and get himself under control for whatever the fuck she was about to do. However, he gets an idea when he feels a swoosh of breath against the base of his shaft, looks down quickly to see her wrap her lips around the bottom of his dick as she runs her tongue up towards the tip, her soft hands gently tickling the insides of his thighs. His mouth drops open at the sight, his eyes glazing over as he takes in the picture before him; the thought of it was enough to make him release on the spot though he tries with everything in him to follow her instruction not to. They’d only ever done this that one time in London; the park pitched black, his view hazy. But here she was, with the lights on, with her mouth wrapped around his shaft as her hands move in to grasp his balls. His head hits the pillow again as he feels her take his whole dick into her mouth, one hand squeezing around his sack, her other compensating by gripping at the base for what she can’t take in her mouth. He can feel her soft lips surrounding him as she bobs her head up and down, can’t help but look down again to watch her tongue swirling against the tip and whatever else she can reach around him. She releases him with a pop as her tongue caresses back down the side of his shaft again, her tongue bumping over every vein as her hand continues to pump delicately up and down his member. He feels like he’s on the cusp of splurging, tries to remember what she had warned as he stops looking, faces the ceiling with his eyes tightly shut as he tries not to concentrate on the perfection of her silky tongue grazing him, her nose nuzzling him on her travels, her hand fondling his balls expertly, and he just can’t fucking take it anymore.

“Gerri!” He shouts abruptly. “Stop! I know I’m not allowed to talk but I’m going to come and if you don’t want me to come then you need to stop! You need to stop, like stop right now!” He pants wildly as he looks down to her, her mouth ghosting next to his pulsing dick, her hands slowly releasing from him with a smirk before she places a final peck to the tip. His head falls back onto the bed in relief, his eyes closed as he pants, feeling his dick twitching, his mind trying to send every fucking signal to tell him to calm the fuck down.

“You’re learning,” she groans, tapping his thigh so he can bring his leg in, allowing her to move over it and crawl up the bed next to him, moving her skirt off before she settles down, his eyes still closed as he throws an arm over his eyes.

She lies next to him on her side with her arm bent, one of her hands holding her head up as the other trails a line down his chest, swirling around one of his nipples lightly.

“You did as you were told even if you had to create a boundary to do it. Even if you had to give up your own pleasure to achieve it,” she notes as he continues panting. “Phase one is complete,” she smiles.

His wide shocked eyes peek wildly over his arm, looking at her as though she were fucking crazy.

“PHASE ONE!” He shouts loudly. “HOW MANY FUCKING PHASES ARE THERE?” He shouts desperately.

“As many as I say,” she challenges back solidly with a quirked eyebrow, removing her hand as he huffs dramatically, burrowing back under his arm.

“Then what the fuck is phase two?” He whines.

“Can you do as your told to benefit someone else?” She offers plainly as he drops his hand onto his chest, uncovering his eyes to regard her.

“If you’re the someone else then fucking yes,” he groans, turning towards her, careful not to touch her.

“That was a rhetorical question,” she hums, lifting her hand to run her index finger to trail across his lips as he kisses it on its voyage. “I’ll be the judge of that,” she whispers as she watches the movements of her finger. “Now, stop speaking and do as I say,” she directs, lying on her back as he watches her.

“Now, come and sit here,” she instructs, tapping her abdomen as he straddles her silently, sitting there simply, awaiting further orders.

“Come here,” she beckons with her finger until he bends down so his chest is flat against hers, his pelvis pushing down towards her bent legs to graze the tops of her thighs. He moves to kiss her before she holds a hand up against his chest to halt him, taking her glasses off, and throwing them to the other side of the bed to safety, before looking back up to him.

“Now let’s see what you can do,” she challenges with a raised eyebrow. “It’s going to require innovation, passion, and self-control,” she sets out as if she’s giving him a task at work, whilst he nods eagerly. She puts her hand behind his neck, pulling him closer to peck her lips, pushing his chest again when he tries to deepen it. “I’ve not given you your task,” she warns as he waits quietly for her to speak.

“I want you to bring me pleasure, Roman,” she growls out. “I want you to worship me like you’ve never worshipped anything in your whole life,” she breathes. “You’re not allowed to fuck me, but I’ll give you some instruction along the way,” she directs as he nods, his eyes glazing over. “Are you up to the challenge?”

All he ever wants to do always is worship Gerri and bring her pleasure. He’s glad she didn’t give him a boring task.

He nods smugly as she notes it, quirking an eyebrow.

“Then, you can touch me now,” she smiles genuinely as he jumps into the heated frenzy she had expected him to, running his hands instantly up her sides before plunging his lips towards hers, pushing her deeply into the mattress; exactly what she had wanted. She finds her own hips pushing up towards his, his hard shaft pressed against her stomach as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, deepening the ferocious kiss. His lips run fiercely down her neck towards her chest when he becomes breathless, his hands lightly caressing her sides, sending electric currents throughout her entire body as her legs start to squirm underneath him. She feels him moving downward, pushing his knees between hers to spread them, his tongue viciously licking across her chest as he approaches her breasts, launching another attack on them that she was sure would leave a few marks later. She pushes his head further into her, her back arching up into him as she gasps at his ministrations.

She can feel the pooling that had been in at her centre all day flooding, the throbbing of her clit begging to be touched.

Just when she’s about to fire an instruction at him, however, he moves his attentions lower covering every inch of her stomach and hips with his kisses and licks as his thumbs continue to brush along her nipples before gripping her waist to try and keep her still.

“Rome,” she whispers, breaking her character in a plead for him to give her what she needs. He moves his mouth down lower, kneeling between her legs before lying down to wrap his arms up under her thighs, his hands gripping over them to keep them under control. His mouth finally finds her centre as her jaw drops in ecstasy, her hips inadvertently gyrating up towards his tongue as he laps her up, whilst the tips of his fingers caress the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs. She can feel the guttural groan come from the back of her throat as her desperation for a release becomes overwhelming, her hips bucking up into his mouth hard as she leans up on an elbow, her other hand reaching down to push into the back of his head. She needs to gain back control, needs to give some kind of harsh instruction to keep this game going.

“Harder,” she grunts harshly, pushing his head into her centre, his nose and mouth buried so hard into her that she wonders how can he can breathe, how his mouth can still be swirling her juices around so expertly, how the suction of his lips on her nub can be so precise.

“Keep going,” she barks sharply, her head lolling to the side as she tries to keep her concentration, her centre so sensitive now that she feels like it’s going numb.

“Come on, Roman,” she goads angrily. “Make me come. Make me fucking scream,” she cries harshly as he renews his vigour, his tongue pressing rhythmically into her nub for another minute as she pants, grasping the back of his head solidly into her measured thrusts as she essentially fucks his face. She eventually falls over the edge with a scream, her eyes closing tightly, her elbow giving way under her as thrusts up into his face. She pushes her hand into the mattress, twisting her fingers into the covers as he slows his jaw against her, gently moving to her opening to lap up her juices whilst she lies there exhausted and panting.

He continues to slowly lick her, moving his wet caresses to her sensitive inner thigh, whilst she tries to catch her breath. When she looks down to him, she can see his loving kisses, the worship she asked of him as he simply waits there innocently for her further instruction and she can’t help the overwhelming love she feels building up inside of her.

“C’mere,” she croaks, as he quietly moves back up her body, lying on top of her as she takes his jaw in her hands, directing his mouth to hers as she offers a loving kiss, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as her tongue languidly caresses his.

He’s the one to pull back this time, his erection firm against her groin, as she looks into his soft eyes, pushing his hair back.

This man, only wishing to please her, only wanting to follow every order she administers, wanting to grant her every wish. She can feel her heart bursting with emotion, infatuation, passion, devotion, yearning, and most of all absolute love.

“Well it’s obvious you can do phase two,” she smiles, pecking his lips again.

“Was it okay?” He asks reticently, his eyes searching.

“Perfect,” she whispers tenderly as he grins widely, pecking her lips excitedly. “Just one more phase,” she adds lightly, running her hand down his cheekbone to his jaw and then under his chin.

He nods silently, his eyebrows knitting as he awaits the challenge.

“I think you’ve learned your lesson and earned your reward. So, you can speak. You can touch me. You can do whatever you want. Just fuck me,” she groans, pushing her lips hard into his. He smiles into the kiss, running his hands through her hair as he deepens his kiss, pushing her solidly into the mattress. Her legs come up to wrap around the back of his thighs, trying to push his hips further into hers, trying to encourage him to fill her, to release that remaining pent up arousal in her. She pushes her hands into the back of his head, one of them trailing across his shoulders, whilst one of his hand trails delicately down her side, reaching between them to grab his stiff throbbing erection, directing it to finally push into her.

He can’t hide the relief that washes over him from being buried in her, as he hears and feels the gasp she emits against his mouth; music to his motherfucking ears. He pulls back to look at her as he takes in her closed eyes, the small smile splayed through her open mouth, and he can’t think of a more beautiful fucking moment. He pulls out and pushes into her again slowly, grasping her hip firmly, as he watches her gasp of pleasure this time leaving her plump lips, her eyes opening at the end of it to stare into his eyes.

“I love you,” he breathes seriously, brushing the edge of his nose against hers as he pulls out and pushes back in deliciously again, watching her inhale again at the feeling, her mouth opening slowly the deeper he goes, her eyes closing softly.

“I love you, Rome. My wonderful Rome,” she whispers, kissing him harder as he increases his ministrations, pushing harder into her as he catches her gasps in his mouth.

“Oh, honey,” she groans, her nails scraping across his shoulders. “Yes,” she breathes, as he continues his pumping into her, inhaling every gasp, every word that pours out of her mouth.

“Faster, Rome. Yes, fuck. Faster,” she directs again with each word interrupted with a thrust as he ups his tempo, plunging into her quicker, his own release ready to come.

“Gerri,” he breathes, the sweat forming on his head as he moves his kisses down to her perfect jaw, biting vigorously at the bone below her ear. “Fuck, yes. Yes, yes, fuck,” he strains out as he feels the build-up reaching its peak.

“That’s it, baby. Right there. God yes,” she grunts, as one of his hands harshly press up her body, groping her breast before he takes her hand from behind his neck, pushing it into the bed before threading his fingers through hers, pushing it into the mattress as she moans even louder.

He feels himself exploding, every ounce of seed he had within him spilling into her with each thrust, feeling her eventually tightening around him, her scream filling the room just as he spills his final load into her. He falls exhausted against her shoulder, her legs tightening around his, her heels digging into his backside, spurring his hips further on through the waves of her release.

He feels her relaxing around him after she’s ridden the wave of her orgasm, her hand in his loosening, her heels trailing down his thighs to rest on the backs of his knees as he allows his softening dick to slip out to rest against her.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, pecking her neck as he buries his face in it, whilst her chest continues heaving.

He thinks it’s the most intense orgasm he’s ever had, the euphoria buzzing throughout his entire body as he lays spent across her, his body likely a dead weight on her though he can’t bring himself to roll away. Her hand lightly trails his warm, sticky back, running up to the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Jesus Christ,” she sighs. “Is that what I was missing out on over the phone all those times?”

“Nah,” he groans. “They were nothing on this.”

She turns her head to the side, tightening her grip on his hand again as she squeezes their threaded fingers. She offers a kiss to his cheekbone, his head attempting to turn more so they can share a few light drained kisses.

“Do you feel like you’ve learned your lesson?” She whispers with a giggle.

“Nah, I think we need to play again,” he jokes as she smiles, offering another kiss.

“I wasn’t too harsh?” She whispers quietly.

“You kidding?” He huffs. “That whole thing was fucking hot. Gerri the Dom is top tier,” he divulges as she laughs, pushing his unruly hair out of his face again.

“Do you want her around permanently then?” She laughs.

“Nah,” he whispers. “I prefer my Gerri. Caring Gerri. She’s my favourite. Dom Gerri can make an appearance on occasion then.”

She snorts laughing at the suggestion.

“Oh yeah,” she agrees sarcastically. “You just let me know which I should be at your whim then. I’ll make sure she’s there then,” she offers facetiously with a laugh.

“Great,” he groans, burrowing into her neck. “Mail order Gerri.”

She hums, hugging him closer, closing her eyes herself as she sinks into the mattress.

“You really did do a good job today,” she admis. “Your charm shone through, even if you were a bit impetuous. Though you do need to be more careful with going off script,” she tells him seriously. “Throw Karolina a bone or two. Have a bit more empathy for her situation.”

“I know,” he whines. “I will.”

She hums quietly, running her foot up the back of his calf as breathes deeply.

“I think you did a fucking amazing job,” he praises. “Don’t know why you thought you’d suck. You’ve never been shit at anything. Obviously, you were gonna kill it.”

“Maybe that’s because I had you to talk me off the ledge beforehand,” she reasons, caressing his back. “Maybe it’s because I had you to take the questions you were good at and I got to take the clinical ones I’m good at.”

“I think you could do them if you had to,” he reasons.

“Maybe,” she ponders. “But maybe we have our strengths and our weaknesses and balance each other out. Rockstar and the Molewoman,” she smiles up to the ceiling.

“Mm,” he hums. “Maybe.”

“Why would I take the uncomfortable questions anyway when you could just give an angry challenging answer and cause an uproar,” she teases, reaching to peck his head.

“Fuck them,” he groans. “About time someone told them to shut the fuck up.”

“I can’t believe you told the public to keep their fucking opinions to themselves,” she chuckles, shaking her head, her whole body shaking in mirth.

“Well, they fucking should. Morons,” he groans, bringing their joined hands down to her stomach as he kisses her neck again.

“And what was that about me being scared away?” She challenges, looking around to him. “I told you I’m not going anywhere.”

“I was trying to make a joke,” he admits. “Thought I’d maybe gone in too hard with the threats.”

“You’re just a protective little puppy, aren’t you?” She asks in a baby voice, looking around to him. “Not disobedient at all,” she smiles pecking his lips.

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss her more soundly, his fingers weaving through her hair to push it back from her face. “Anything,” he mumbles as she smiles into the kiss, pulling him closer.

“Ditto.”


End file.
